The Hunter's Prey
by Sarah36396
Summary: When Clint Barton spares the Black Widows life, he isn't sure what he has gotten himself into. But as time progress will he end up with a valuable partner or a dangerous enemy? Rated just to be safe. Origins through the movie. Clint/Natasha Hawkeye/Black Widow
1. Chapter 1

**So here it is. This will be my origins story and it will run all the way through the movie as it follows their partnership/relationship. Feed back would be greatly appreciated and I will update whenever I can. I am getting into showing with my horse and stay busy during the week with school. Thanks for reading and drop a review. Enjoy.**

The night was dark and silent. The sky was hidden behind thick black clouds and there was no breeze to disturb the trees. Most of the forest creatures were hidden away in their dens, seeking shelter from the snow. But one creature remained out in the cold night air. It prowled through the shadows on two legs, gliding over the snow covered ground without a sound. Its keen Grey eyes were constantly moving, scanning the trees and thickets for any sign of its prey. The movements it made were graceful yet deadly, like a shadow that was looking to claim a life. The lean form and skilled movements made one things clear: This was a hunter stalking his prey.

Clint sighed as he approached the tall pine tree that sat on the crest of the hill, his breath turning white in front of face. A shiver wracked his body as he reached up to the first bare branch and pulled himself into the tree, scaling it with ease. Once he reached the top his eyes swept the area once more, then stopped on the compound that sat at the bottom of the hill: his destination. Concrete walls surrounded the court yard and housing units and Clint was willing to guess that they were no shorter than 30 feet. Spot lights were at each corner, sweeping out across the woods as the guards looking for any signs of trouble. From his perch Clint could see down into the court yard where several more guards roamed about, guns slung lazily over their shoulders. He spotted the barracks and his eyes began sweeping over the small houses as he counted in his head. 'One...two...three...there!' It was just a flash, anyone else might have missed it, but Clint had caught the brief flash of red. Taking the number to memory he climbed out of the tree and started down the slick slope.

The thick snow muffled his foot steps and the following snow covered his tracks. His dark suit combined with the dark of night made him a living shadow that glided along, silent and deadly. Within minutes he had reached the large stone walls and his eyes instantly picked out every flaw in the rough stone. Within minutes he had picked out enough hand holds to take him all the way up the wall. He slung his bow over his shoulder before hoisting himself up and climbing, snaking up the wall live a fast growing ivy. The wall was slick with ice and several times Clint nearly slipped, his bow slamming across his back as he lurched. Miraculously the guards overheard didn't hear his grunts of pain and he finally neared the top of the wall. He stopped and let his ears do the work; he took note of the guards pattern and waited until they had passed to opposite sides of the walk way. He nimbly climbed up over the wall and onto the cat walk, hesitating- a 30 foot drop faced him and there was no way he had time to pick out a way to climb down. He took a deep breath and jumped as they guards turned on their heels, starting back towards the center.

Clint landed in the deep snow with a grunt, pain coursing through his back as he landed on a rock. He rolled into the shadows just as the guards looked over the edge, yelling at each other in Russia. Clint was afraid he had been spotted, but the arguing eventually stopped and the guards went back to pacing. He waited a few more minutes for everything to completely settle down before slinking along the wall, heading towards the houses on the far end of the court yard. He slipped past several guards with ease, somewhat disgusted with them; they had become far too comfortable in their little fortress. Within minutes he had reached the first house and he grunted as he pulled himself on the roof, trusting the thick snow to muffle his footsteps. He skillfully made his way along the roofs, leaping from one to the other, until he reached the third house. There he crept forward in a crouch, pulling the bow off his shoulder as he approached the wall of the fourth house. His eyes trained on the window and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

His heart began to beat harder as he watched the window and for the first time in years he felt nervous. His palms were slick with sweat as he clutched his bow tighter, trying to see into the frost covered window. He knew she was in there, knew that she could kill him as easily as he could kill her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves, notching an arrow. He opened his eyes and then she was there at the window, staring at him with bright green eyes. His heart leapt into his throat and he froze, unable to release the show. The arrow fell to the roof with a muted thud and they stared at each other, their eyes locked together as they sized each other up. The minutes ticked in silence and he managed to swallow, his mind racing. Why hadn't he taken the shot?

"Вы приехали, чтобы убить меня." She finally spoke and from the way she said it Clint knew it wasn't a question. He mentally cursed as he remembered telling Coulson that he could skip the Russian lessons, now he was regretting it. "Пожалуйста сделайте. Убейте меня теперь. Поместите стрелку через мое сердце. Закончите этот ад на земле, в которую меня тянули." She spoke again and Clint was surprised to hear the slight pleaing tone in her voice, this was the Black Widow afteral. "Kill me," She finally said in English. It was a demand full of self loathing and anger. She reached for her gun and Clint flinched, but she tossed it aside and held her arms up. "Do it now."

"No." Clint wouldn't have been sure he actually said it if her face had not contorted in surprise. He was defying direct kill order from the council and defying everything he had ever taught himself; never show mercy to a target, never. Especially when that target was on the most wanted list. "I won't," He said, this time a bit quieter.

"Why?" She hissed, her green eyes flashing in anger.

"Because I won't shoot an unarmed man."

"How noble," the disgust was evident in her voice. "You are pathetic. Kill me."

"No. I've been watching you."

"I know. I saw you coming from the hill. I saw you in Paris and in London too."

Clint's eye brows rose in surprise at that; he was sure he had remained unseen. "Why didn't you kill me then?"

"Because I knew you would come for me. I was hoping you would turn out to be a bit more ruthless."

"Sorry to disappoint," his brow creased. "I won't kill you though. I do not believe you are bad."

"Who are you to judge? You watch me for a week and suddenly you know me?" She spat at him. "Complete your orders! Kill me!"

"I won't kill an innocent person."

"Innocent?" She snorted. "I have killed people. Entire families; mothers, fathers, children. All of them. I am far from innocent, иностранец."

"You have been doing what you had to in order to survive," he said in a soft tone. "We have all been there. There are other ways though."

"What I have done is punishable by death. There is no other way."

"We all have red on our ledger," Clint's voice was nostalgic, brief pain flashing on his face before he resumed his stony mask once more. "There are ways to wipe it out."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't. But I can help you. You can leave this," he spread his hands, guestering to the compound. "Stop being Ianvitch's lap dog, stop being locked away until you are needed. Let me help you."

"Why? Why do you want to help me?"

"I...I don't know. Just a gut feeling."

She snorted at that, bending down to retrieve her gun. She noticed the way he flinched and she inwardly smiled: it was good for him to be afraid of her. She grabbed a back pack from the end of her bed before slipping out the window. She ignored the hand he offered and made her way onto the roof without his help, tossing her red locks over her shoulder. "Well? Let's get moving. Unless you want to stand here and freeze."

"Wait?"

"What now?" She asked irritably, narrowing her eyes.

"What is your name?"

"You know my name."

"No, what is your _name_?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"I am Clint. Clint Barton."

"That is nice. Now let's go," she ignored him as she leapt off the roof and onto the ground. "There is a secret tunnel behind the barracks. We can easily get out through there."

Clint nodded as he followed her lead, doubt gnawing at his chest. Had he made the right call? Would she kill him as soon as they were alone? What would Fury and Coulson say? At that thought he groaned and ran a hand through his hair, dreading returning to base. What had he gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha frowned as she kicked some snow aside, irritated with the cold and the man following her. She wasn't sure what to think about him,but she didn't like him. What agents in their right mind gave their real name to the enemy? Maybe he was just stupid. Yes,that was it she decided as she bent down to pull the trap door open. To her surprise he had yet to stare at her or gawk like most men-it was a nice change,but also a bit annoying;he was breaking all the rules.

Natasha ducked into the tunnel and the man followed,quietly pulling the door shut behind him. For a moment she considered knocking him over the head,but where would that get her? All she had to go back to was Ianvitch and his cruel followers, and if he ever caught wind of her attempted escape she would be severely punished in unspeakable ways. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine and if the foreign agent noticed he didn't speak on it. Instead he notched an arrow on that crazy contraption he called a weapon and scanned the tunnel ahead.

"Will there be guards?"

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "Why wouldn't there be? There are two stationed at the end of this tunnel. It let's out a few miles from Moscow. Where is your extraction point?"

"Outside the De Grand hotel in Moscow."

"I know where that is."

"So you know the area?"

Natasha gave him an icy glare."Stop trying to pry information out of me. We should be getting close to the end so for God sakes SHUT UP," she hissed. Clint just sighed and shook his head as they neared the bend in the tunnel.

Both agents were startled to find a group of 4 men waiting for them,guns aimed straight at them. "Freeze!"

"Damn!"Clint yanked her out of the line of fire and she shot daggers at him.

"Get your hands off me!" She shoved him,resisting the urge to punch him.

"Excuse me for trying to save your life," Clint muttered as they retreated back to the bend in the tunnel to hold a better vantage point. Somewhere from above ground a siren wailed and Clint watched the woman as she Drew her pistol,flicking the safety off and detaching the silencer in one fluid motion. Clint replaced the stunning arrow he had notched with a regular one and the two agents faced opposite directs. Footsteps and Russian cries came from both ends of the tunnel. As the first two men rounded both ends an unspoken agreement passed between them and they fired simultaneously, both men dropping to the ground at the same time. They repeated this several more times until Clint's side became too crowded for his bow. Without speaking or signaling to one another they swapped sides without missing a beat, the sharp bang and dull thud of their weapons syncing in harmony.

Twice more the agents swapped sides before the rush of men turned to a trickle,then to a stop. Silence stretched throughout the tunnel and Clint replaced the unused arrow in his quiver. His brow creased as he thought about what had just happened: two unacquainted agents had just worked together like they had spent hours training together. It took partners years of practice to figure out each others ways,to achieve complete synchronization and they had done it in seconds; it had came naturally.

"Wow," Clint mumbled under his breath. The woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she turned her back to him. Her thoughts were on the same track and she was disturbed that someone could match her like that. This Hawkeye fellow was going to need further watching.

"Ianvitch is sure to send more reinforcements, we need to keep moving," she stated as she stepped over a dead body, the body of a former comrade. She felt no remorse or pity for the man. These people had taken her whole life from her and turned her into a mindless killing machine. And now a foreign agent was offering her a way out of this hellish cycle. She shook her head at the absurdity of it all and sighed; her life would never be normal.

"Barton!" Coulson breathed a sigh of relief as he answered his phone. "Where in the hell have you been? You haven't made contact in 2 hours!"

"Busy,no time to explain,"Clint huffed as he ran alongside the Russian spy. "I have an agent with me. We cannot make it to the extraction point. We need emergency extraction!"

"Another agent? What did you do this time Barton? Who is she?"

Clint noticed the slight smirk on the woman's face and he knew she had heard Coulson. "Just get me a damn extraction!" Clint barked before hanging up,firing several rounds at the pursuers behind them. He had picked up a gun from a dead man. Although it wasn't his weapon of choice it was better suited for close range combat.

"Here comes our ride," the spy said as a chopper flew into view,hovering over their heads. A titanium ladder slid down and the agents grabbed out,climbing as the chopper gained height. They reached the empty passenger hold and the ladder pulled up,then the chopper was gone,leaving the Russian compound behind.

"Nice work," Clint finally said after he caught his breath. He broke his bow down and stored it before pulling off his gloves and quiver,tucking them beside his chair. The woman ignored him,pulling out her gun and cleaning the barrel.

Clint shrugged before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He was unused to the woman's stony silence; he was a loner,but he enjoyed the occasional conversation. He finally shrugged to himself yawning. And then he heard it. It was barely audible,but she had said it.

"Romanoff. You can call me Romanoff."

"It is nice to meet you, Agent Romanoff."


	3. Chapter 3

"Wake up," Romanoff said sharply, her gaze fixed on Barton's sleeping face. She nudged him with the toe of her boot when he didn't respond, a look of disgust creeping onto her face, as if touching him was a horrible thing. "Come on."

"Hm?" Clint grumbled sleepily, his eyes slowly opening and training on her.

"We have landed."

"Ah," Clint replied slowly, drawing the word out as he stretched. "My handler should be waiting for me inside; this is one of our mini bases. Once I check in with him we can get your situation figured out."

"My situation?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes." He sighed. "We really only have two options here. If we just let you go there is a good chance Ianvitch's men could hunt you down again or kill you," Clint ignored her as she snorted, "So we could give you a new identity, try to give you a normal life. Or..."

"Or what?" Her gaze held his, daring him to tell her a lie.

"You could come work for SHIELD."

Romanoff laughed coldly, shaking her head. "You are crazy. As if they would ever trust or allow a former Russian Assassin to work for them. Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I am perfectly sane for the time being. Let's face it, you have gave us a lot of grief; killing off targets that would have been useful for information, causing mayhem over dead witness protection civilians, breaking into the national defense files. I have seen the way you work. You get the job done, no questions ask. You would make a valuable agent if you were on the right side."

"And if I decide I don't want either of those?" Clint didn't answer, his hand dropping to his side arm as he studied her, his eyes darkening. "Just checking," she gave him a cold look.

"I do not want to have to kill you, but I also don't want to try to force anything on you."

"How do you know your people wouldn't shoot me on sight? And I do not wish to be controlled and ordered around. It is not my style."

"The more skilled of us aren't really under SHIELDS control. They just pretend we are. I could leave right now, turn down any mission I wanted. But I don't. I stay because it is a chance to use my skills for the right cause. I don't think I would be very good at sitting on a couch somewhere."

"Fair enough," She shrugged. "But again, how do I know they won't shoot me? Why should they show me any mercy?" Romanoff frowned, her mind reeling. The offer did sound tempting, as absurd as it was. She hated being forced to take missions, to follow orders. But under Ianvitch's control it was that or punishments that would be worse than death. Working for the "Good" guys would be a way to clear her ledger, to start over.

"Because I have been there." Something passed over the man's face, pain? She wasn't quite able to place it before he shook his head. "Fury knows a good agent when he sees one, whether they be on the right or wrong side. It just helps if they are on the right side."

"I see. Well, let's go meet this fellow. Assuming he doesn't shoot me on sight, I might be interested in that offer."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Woah woah woah!" Clint yelled, jumping between Coulson and Romanoff. The minute she had stepped through the door, Coulson had drew his gun and trained his sights on her, causing Romanoff to draw her own gun and making a stand off. She shot Clint a told-you-so look and he frowned. "Let's put the guns down, ok? We've had enough shooting for one day."

"Barton, That is the-"

"Black Widow, yeah. I noticed." Clint rolled his eyes.

"What is she doing here? With you? Alive!?" Coulson's voice rose a pitch and Romanoff rolled her eyes.

"Geez Phil, relax." Clint commented, shifting his weight. The veins in Coulson's neck were popping and he looked very alarmed. "She is with me."

"You were supposed to kill her!...no offense." Coulson added nervously, his eyes shifting towards the red head. She just shrugged, holstering her gun and picking at her nails.

"She was unarmed!"

"How noble of our," Coulson rolled his eyes and the woman's mouth showed the faintest hint of a smile.

"I offered her a way out. She would be a valuable agent. You helped me, I know you can help her."

"You were a different case Barton, you know that."

"I wasn't in a high ranking Mafia ring like the Red Room, but I was a wanted assassin and criminal working for the wrong people. Same thing."

"No, it isn't the same thing. You were only there because of your broth-"

"Don't say it." Clint cut him off, his tone dark. Romanoff was surprised to hear the anger in his voice and noticed that his eyes had changed from a light grey to black in mere seconds. "Don't bright him into this. Either you help her or I will. Things will be a lot less messier if you help her. You know I am not good at negotiating."

"Obviously," Coulson muttered before clearing his throat and turning to the woman. "Phil Coulson." He offered a hand but she didn't shake it.

"You can call me Romanoff."

Clint sighed as he watched the two shoot daggers at each other and he couldn't help but wonder how they would get back to base without killing each other. Things were going to be tense for a while.

**Sorry for the shorter chapter. I plan on uploading two today to make up for it. Enjoy and review; I won't know what to write or change without feed back!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I have rewrote this chapter like 5 times so hopefully you will enjoy it. Feed back would be greatly appreciated.**

Hectic. That was the only word that could properly sum up the last two days. Coulson and Barton had escorted the former Russian spy back to the main base of SHIELD, where she had met the director, Nick Fury. He had been eerily calm about meeting the Russian spy and agreed to give her a trail, although she could tell he was hesitant about it. By time she left his office she decided that he was a hard ass, but that he was simply looking after his staff and agents. After her meeting she was escorted to a small room where a shrewd man had attempted to debrief her. She only gave them bits and pieces, the stuff she thought was appropriate; there was no point in giving them everything...yet. As soon he was satisfied she had been whisked away to her new room, which was set apart from the others in a quiet wing of the base. She was grateful for the silence, but she knew it was another measure to protect the other agents.

She had not been able to rest long before someone timidly knocked on her door. She had opened it to find a little woman who looked scared to death, several files in her hands. The woman, Jessica, had taken her information and they worked out an arrangement for her name; she couldn't keep her Russian name, as it would make her too easy to track, but she wasn't willing to completely give up her identity. After a little arguing they had settled on Natasha Romanoff. It was a night play off her real name and she liked the sound of it, so she wasn't too disappointed when the woman officially sealed the file, making the change permanent.

The next day Natasha had been sent down to the training center, where her skills were evaluated. Naturally she passed everything with flying covers, excelling at hand-to-hand combat, firearms and stealth. After passing all of the qualifications her pistol was returned and she was left to do whatever she pleased, within reason. Instead of exploring the base she returned to her room, growing tired of the stares and whispers that she received. She was physically and mentally tired so she decided that she needed sleep.

It was early morning on the third day when someone started pounding on her door, causing her to groan and blink. She sat up sleepily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a yawn. "Who is it?" She called sleepily.

"Clint."

"Ug," she groaned again, falling back to the bed with a sigh. "What do you want?" The last thing she wanted to do was deal with the annoying male agent this early. She had decided that she did not particularly like him, although she couldn't find a legitimate reason; maybe it was the fact that he had showed her mercy and was responsible for this new life. Either way his very presence bugged her.

"Can I come in?"

"No," she frowned, pulling on a pair of pants.

"Why not?" He whined like a child, grating on her nerves.

"Go away Barton!" She snapped, hoping to intimidate him.

"Aw, come on Tasha."

Natasha scowled at that and crossed the room in a flash, nearly yanking the door from the hinges. "Do NOT call me that," she glared daggers at him.

"Oookay," he shrugged, rolling his eyes before flashing her a kiss-my-butt grin. Natasha wanted to choke him, but that would look bad, considering she hadn't even been on base a week. Instead she went to slam the door in his face, only to have him catch it and force it back open.

"What do you want?" She demanded, crossing her arms and scowling at him.

"You have got to lighten up a little, Romanoff. I came down here because my sparring partner bailed on me...again. Apparently he is tired of getting beat up all the time. I need someone who is a little closer to my level. Care to give it a go?"

"You are asking me to kick your ass?" She arched an eyebrow.

"I am asking you to try," he smirked at her.

"You're on pretty boy." She stepped into the hall,pushing past him.

"You think I am pretty?" Clint grinned as he followed her down the hall,towards the training center. Natasha just rolled her eyes, ignoring him; she would be able to beat him up soon enough.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Ready?" Clint asked, hopping up and down in place. Natasha sighed and shook her head at his childish antics before stretching, looking Clint over. He had changed into a top much like hers, but his was fitted and clung to his body. Her eyes followed the sculpted lines of his torso and arms and she had to admit he was an attractive guy, even if he was obnoxious.

"Then let's get started."

Clint's playful demeanor instantly turned serious as the two agents circled each other, their movements eerily similar. Each was waiting for an opening or for their opponent to attack. The minutes dragged by in silence and then it happened; Natasha lunged forward, heading straight for him and preparing to take him down. Clint barely had time to dodge her attack and he countered, grabbing her arm and attempting to drag her to the mat. She pulled away with surprising force and countered with a punch. It connected with his jaw and Clint was glad they were pulling punches, otherwise she would have knocked him out. Clint feigned a punch to her stomach before sweeping his leg out at the last minute, aiming for the back of her knees. Natasha rolled her eyes as she caught his leg, flipping him over. He landed on the mat with a grunt, a look of surprise in his eyes as she advanced towards him, determined to get him in a choke hold. He managed to block her with his knees and pushed her away before rolling to his feet, the fight continuing.

The intensity of the battle increased as they fought on, neither of them able to gain the upper hand. Their punches became more solid, their moves more advanced as they each tried to out do the other. Their motions were blurred by the speed they were performed at and the two agent were completely focused on one another. The minutes continued to race by and their breathing became more labored as they became even more oblivious to the world.

"Time!" Someone finally yelled from outside the ring, causing both agents to jump and step away from each other. Clint bent over, hands on his knees, as he tried to catch his breath, sweat dripping down his face. When he looked up he was surprised to see a small crowd had gathered at the base of the ring.

"That was spectacular!" Coulson grinned at him once the noise died down and a murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. "I've never seen two agents spar like that! That was amazing!"

"Thanks," Clint mumbled, clearing his throat before turning to his temporary partner. His eyes picked out the small bruises on her arms and he frowned. "Sorry."

"Like wise." She frowned at the large bruise covering his jaw.

"Thanks for filling in for Paul. We've never sparred like that. It was refreshing."

"I doubt Paul is on your level. You are a little bit better than the average agent." She shrugged, stifling a yawn. "I am going to take a shower. I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see ya." Clint smiled as he watched her go, rubbing his jaw. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

**So I had to start somewhere...Keep, delete? Change anything? Gotta let me know!**


	5. Chapter 5

The next few months flew by as things remained busy around the base. Missions were scarce but there was always work to be done; paperwork, training, and cleaning. Clint and Natasha had begun to spar on a daily basis, become a miniature legend around the base. Their fights were often watched, leaving the spectators in amazement; the two agents moved in complete harmony and the battles ended up looking like a work of art. Clint was glad for the distraction and the fights were proving to form some kind of bond between himself and the Russian woman. It gave them some common ground, but Natasha was still cold towards him a majority of the time. Any time they were out of the ring they were bickering and if he tried to press her for personal information she would shut him out completely and then he would be back to square one.

Today had been one of those days and now Natasha was giving Clint the cold shoulder as they walked towards the lunch room, ready to eat after a long training session. Clint was racking his brain, trying to think of something he could say to smooth the situation over; All he had done was ask her about her parents and she had clammed up, giving him that "I dare you to ask again" look. He still wasn't sure why he even bothered trying to win her friendship. He was a loner by nature and other than a few select people he preferred to be left alone. Something about her reminded him of himself, so maybe he was just curious. Either way it was proving to be a challenge and so far he was losing. The woman was constantly moody and wanted to be left alone.

"What?" Natasha snapped as he sighed, running a hand through his short hair.

"I can't breath?" Clint gave her a funny look.

"I would prefer it if you didn't." She glared at him.

"I can tell," he grumbled, lengthening his stride and walking in front of her. He fought the urge to turn around as he felt her eyes bore into his back. If looks could kill, he would be dead. "You are moodier than a mare in heat."

"Do you EVER shut up?" Natasha practically yelled and several agents stopped walking to stare at them.

"Do you?" Clint countered, turning to glare at her. "What in the hell did I do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you jumping down my throat all the time!?"

"Because I can!"

"That is a great reason, Nat," he rolled his eyes.

" . .that." She hissed before taking a swing at him. Clint barely had time to duck before jumping away, glaring at her.

"Really red? You want to try that again?"

"Maybe I do," she glared back. "Scared?"

"Like hell. Come on then." He took a step towards her.

"Woah! Hey!" Coulson yelled as he ran down the hall towards them, his tie trailing out behind him. "Knock it off you two!" He got between them and held his hands out, scolding both of them.

"Move Phil," Clint commanded, still glaring at Natasha.

"No. Knock it off Barton."

"Don't protect him, move." Natasha spat.

"I said KNOCK IT OFF!" He barked at the two of them. "You two are worse than rookies! This is the third time this week!"

"It is her fault!"

"Are we in first grade Barton? You are both at fault."

"If he wasn't an insufferable pig I wouldn't have to-"

"I said stop it!" Coulson cut her off. "That does it. I have had it. I am the only handler around here who has to deal with two morons!"

"Excuse me?" Clint crossed his arms but Coulson ignored him.

"Get your asses back to your rooms. And so help me if I find out you left I will personally shoot the both of you! Now GO!" He yelled, watching as they stalked off in opposite directions. As they rounded the corner he noticed several agents staring at him so he cleared his throat, straightening his tie and standing a bit straighter. It was time to talk to Fury.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Clint frowned as he approached the conference room where Natasha leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, glaring at her. It had only been a few hours since their argument and both were still pissed at each other.

"I could ask you the same thing," Natasha pursed her lips, frowning at him.

"Coulson called me down. Said something about a mission.

"No, Coulson called me-"

"Come on you two," Coulson cut her off as he pushed the door open, gesturing for them to enter. "Come have a seat." He watched as the two crossed the room, sitting on opposite sides of the table. They were still glaring at each other and he wouldn't be surprised if Natasha was kicking Clint under the table. "As you probably know, half the base knows about your little...dispute this morning in the hallway. Naturally, it is up to me to punish you, since I am your handler. Lucky me. I talked to Fury not too long ago and despite my efforts, he would not let me suspend you...wipe that smirk off your face Barton." He glared at the young man. "Now, our main problem here is that you two can't be left alone together without killing each other, so naturally we are sending you away on a mission."

Both agents perked up at that and they leaned forward in their seats, their attention now on Coulson rather than each other. He knew that each was dying to get off base and go out into the world, but he had something special in mind. Something that they would not see coming. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face and cleared his throat.

"You will be going to Paris tomorrow, where you will prepare to attend a ball being hosted by a noble man in the area. The party is for the rebel leaders in the area and their followers, so you are to go in and take out as many of them as possibly without being detected. This is a mission of stealth, so you will be undercover for the ball. The minute someone notices anything you are to get out. We don't want them to know we are there. Understood?"

"Uh,yeah. But who?" Clint frowned. "You just said you."

"Both of you." He couldn't help but grin.

"What?" They demanded at the same time, frowning.

"You heard me. Both of you. Your cover will be a noble French couple that has aided in the rebellion."

"You are kidding,right?" Natasha scowled. Barton was busy opening and closing his mouth, but no words were coming out.

"No, I am not kidding. If you two can't get along willingly you will be forced to. So go pack your bags and get moving!"

"Coulson-"

"Not but's Barton! Now move!" Coulson watched as the two agents slinked from the room, scowling and pushing past each other. He hoped Fury was right and they would end up working together. Otherwise the they might not make it home.

**Keep or delete? Let me know!**


	6. Chapter 6

**So this chapter is going to give us a glimpse into Natasha's past, or my version of it. This is probably way off, but it fits into the story and it is my story after all. Please review; I can only improve or change things through your feed back.**

**Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean...**

Clint sighed as he thumbed through the thin manilla folder for the fifth time, trying to keep his mind off of other things, namely the woman that sat across the aisle from him. She hadn't spoken a word to him since Coulson had assigned them their mission and all she had done was glare at him ever since they boarded the plane. He had decided it was best not to talk to her so he let her sit in silence, ignoring her dirty looks and cold body language. His eyes began picking out pointless information on the pages he thumbed through, but it proved as a distraction. The silence stretched on and Clint began to nod off, his head dipping as his eyes closed.

"We are going to have to work together." Natasha finally spoke. The statement held no emotion and she no longer glared at him.

"Is that a problem?" He blinked the sleepiness from his eyes, raising his head to look at her.

"I don't know, is it?"

"I don't think so." He shrugged, closing the folder and replacing it on the table. "Our escort will meet us a few miles out of town,then he will drive us to-"

"The Saint Marks Hotel. Yes, I know. I have read the file."

"Just trying to make conversation," he defended himself.

"Well, stop."

"Why? What is so wrong with talking to people?"

"Friends talk. We are not friends."

"Fair enough," Clint shrugged. "We could be."

"Excuse me?"

"We could be friends."

Natasha snorted, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that will happen. Just shut up Barton. We are temporary partners. That is it."

"Fine."

"Fine." She repeated, closing the conversation as she turned to look out the window. Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, lighting up the night for a brief moment. As she watched the rain fall against the window she felt her eyes droop and she yawned, deciding it was ok to take a nap. She closed her eyes and her mind began to wonder, her thoughts still on the conversation she had just had.

_A thin twelve year old girl huddled underneath an awning as rain fell, soaking anything it could touch. Lightning flashed in the distance and she flinched, terror coursing through her body. Her wet clothes clung to her body and she shivered, a cold breeze blowing down the alley. She was alone. All alone. Tears streamed down her face as her mind took her back two years, back to a warm house and a happy life. She had loving parents then, a warm bed, a warm meal. Now she had nothing. No parents, no food, no warm bed. A sob wracked her body and she wrapped her arms around her knees as the tears continued to fall._

_Suddenly something warm pierced the cold and she was startled to see the hand on her shoulder. She tried to scramble away but the hand remained firm, holding her in place. "Is is ok." The man spoke in her native tongue and she looked up, searching for his face. He had bright blue eyes, a short beard and wavy brown hair. Her heart ached as she thought of her father, who had looked a lot like this stranger. "I am not going to hurt you."  
_

_"Who are you?" She said defensively, wishing she could run away._

_"My name is Hason Ianvitch. Most people just call me Ian though."_

_"What do you want?"_

_"Nothing really. I saw you sitting here all alone and I thought you might want a friend. It is an awfully nasty night to be alone."  
_

_"I don't need friends," she raised her chin a bit in defiance and Ian chuckled._

_"We all need friends darling."_

_"Don't call me that," she glared at him.  
_

_"My apologies. If you don't mind me asking, why are you here alone? Shouldn't you be at home, out of the rain?"_

_"I don't have a home. My parents are dead."_

_"I see. What a shame." Ian looked at her for a long time and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "What is your name?"_

_"Natalia."_

_"Natalia. What a pretty name." He smiled. "Have you ever heard of the Red Room, Natalia?"  
_

_"No," she frowned. "What is it?"_

_"We help little girls like you that have no place to go. I can offer you a warm bed and a warm meal. There are other boys and girls there like you."_

_"Really?" She looked up at him with a new interest. A bed did sound nice...and she was tired of this rain. "I still don't need friends."_

_"That is fine," he chuckled. "We can get you a private room then, how is that?"_

_"Ok," she said slowly, still leery of the man. _

_Ian offered the girl a hand and she took it after a moment, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders,holding her underneath the shelter of the umbrella. They began walking down the alley together and Natalia breathed a sigh of relief; her life was finally taking a turn for the better._

Natasha woke with a start, the memory fresh in her mind. Her breathing was choppy and uneven, a cold sweat on her forehead. Clint was looking at her with a puzzled expression but she ignored him, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It had been years since had a dream about her childhood. She had done everything in her power to block that part of her life out, to forget the pain and suffering she had experienced.

"You ok?" Clint asked, knowing better than to push too far.

"Yeah,fine." She lied, standing up and pushing past him as she headed for the back of the plane. She locked herself in the small bathroom and stared into the mirror, as if her reflection would hold all the answers. She closed her eyes as the next memory flooded into her brain, taking over once more.

_Life had never been better for twelve year old Natalia. It had been six months since Ian had rescued her from the streets, six months since her life had been turned around. She had a place to call home once more, a place where she felt safe. Life within the small compound was enjoyable; three warm meals were provided to them a deal, she had a private room all to herself, self-defense training was given at no cost and the children were left to do what they pleased. Although most of the students were normal children, Natalia preferred to keep to herself and spent much of her time drawing in her room.  
_

_When she wasn't drawing she was training with her personal combat instructor, something that only a few select children in the compound had. Natalia's skills at hand-to-hand combat excelled and Ian had assigned her a personal instructor to help further her skills. She was able to best the other kids that trained with ease and even managed to give her instructor a run for his money. On top of the instructor Ian would bring her little gifts from the outside world and they often spent hours together, discussing his adventures and travels across the globe. The man had became a father like figure to her, replacing the empty hole in her heart. But all of that would soon change.  
_

_Natalia was sitting at her bed, doodling in her notebook as she worked on an elaborate flower, when the familiar knock came at her door. "Come in," she called absently, adding another pedal to the flower with a sigh. Ian smiled as he shut the door behind him, crossing the room to stand beside the bed._

_"Ah. Natalia darling. How are we today?" The thirty year old gave her a charming smile. _

_"Good, I suppose."_

_"You only suppose? What is the matter dear?"_

_"Grantzel tried to kiss me again, so I had to beat him up."_

_"Boys will be boys. The nurse called me to tell me you did quite a number on him, which is partly the reason I have come to see you."_

_"Am I in trouble?" She sat the pencil down, frowning at the thought of disappointing him._

_"No, of course not!" Ian shook his head. "I am here because it has come to my attention that you have far surpassed everyone's skill level in this facility. You are an excellent fighter, very agile and graceful. Almost like a dancer," he added with a smile. "For someone your size you can do impressive things."_

_"Thanks," she shrugged, adding a leaf to the stem._

_"You are also very bright and talented. Everything I look for in a person. So I have an offer for you. A position in my higher ranking facility has become available. I want you to come train under me and fill this position. You would be a valuable asset to the Red Room as an agent."_

_"An agent?" She scowled. "What would I do?"_

_"You would be an assassin. You could kill those who put us in danger."_

_"No." She didn't hesitate with her answer. "I told you how my parents died and you dare offer that?" _

_Ian shook his head with a sad sigh. The girl sounded far beyond her years. "Natalia, dear. I am afraid you don't have much of a choice." Ian reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small gun, placing it within his reach but out of hers. "You see, there are only three options here. You can continue to disagree and I can shoot you. Or you can willingly go with me and make things a lot less messier. Or...I can make your life a living hell." He gave her an evil look as he placed his hand on her thigh, his eyes cold and hard. Natalia got the message and she swallowed, fighting back tears. _

_"I trusted you. You were like a father to me."  
_

_"Trust few, love none. That is the code of people like me. I need a decision sooner than later," he snapped impatiently. "I have no time for your childish games."_

_Natalia stared at him, hatred seeping into her eyes. He had betrayed her. He was stripping her life away from her. She could either die, or be raped until she relented to his control. She was scared to die; she had seen her parents die, she had heard the stories about what happened to nobodies like her when death claimed them. She did not want that. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked him straight in the eye, rising her chin a bit in defiance. "I'll go."_

_"Good girl." Ian smiled and reached out to cup her cheek but she jerked away, glaring at him. "I will return tomorrow to collect you and your things. Don't even think about running- you have no where to go and I would hate to have to kill you."_

_Ian gave her one last cold smile before leaving her alone in her room once more. Natalia pulled the covers up over her shoulders and buried her face in her pillow as sobs wracked her body. Her entire life had just crumbled around her again, all because she trusted someone. It was then, in that moment, that Natalia made a decision: she would never love or trust someone again. _

"Natasha." Clint's voice broke through the memory and Natasha was startled to find her face was damp. She hastily wiped the tears away before swallowing, turning to the door.

"What?" She asked in an annoyed voice, trying to sound angry.

"We are about to land...just thought I would let you know." Clint shrugged, puzzled by her odd behavior.

"Ok." She took a deep breath before pushing the door open and brushing past him once more, returning to her seat. Clint watched her with an odd expression, his mind racing. Would he ever be able to figure her out?

**Keep or delete? Sorry there isn't much interaction between the two in this chapter, but I needed to establish my version of her background. Feedback is very welcome**


	7. Chapter 7

**So this is the new chapter. Decided the original didn't fit well. Drop a review and enjoy. Trying to update every week but horses keep me busy.**

Rain continued to fall as the taxi pulled up to a nice hotel, stopping underneath the drop off area. Clint sighed as he picked up his bag, pulling it over his shoulder as he let himself out of the cramped car. He was glad to be out of the confined space and he took a deep breath,inhaling the smell of the storm. Natasha had been silent ever since their encounter on the plane; she had simply stared out the window, a haunted expression in her face. Clint had debated on whether he should talk to her or not, but decided that it was best to let her deal with her own demons.

"Thanks," Natasha finally spoke to the cab driver,handing him a tip before grabbing her bag and climbing out of the car. She watched until the yellow cab disappeared,then turned to Clint with a sigh. "Well?"

"Well what?" His voice cracked from lack of use.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Let's get checked in."

"Ok," Clint shrugged before entering the hotel, looking around the lobby. Some people lounged around talking and laughing over coffee, while other sat by the rain soaked windows,buried in books. Overall the atmosphere was friendly, unlike the two agents moods.

"How can I help you?" A young woman behind the counter addressed Clint, batting her eyelashes at him. Her eyes roamed over his sculpted body and she was completely oblivious to Natasha's presence.

"I have reservations for Coleman," Clint used his cover name.

"Ah, yes...John Coleman?"

"Correct."

"You reserved two rooms?"

"Yes..."

"About that...earlier today a few pipes blew in several rooms. One of your rooms had severe water damage."

"Ok. So let me rent another," Clint shrugged.

"We are full."

"You have got to be kidding me," Natasha snapped,realizing what the situation meant.

"That is fine," Clint gave Natasha a keep-quiet look as he accepted the room key.

"Like hell it is fine! This is bull-"

"Thanks," Clint cut her off, practically dragging Natasha into the nearest elevator.

"Get off me," she shoved him as the doors slid shut. "What the hell Barton?!"

"I didn't want you to hurt her. It wasn't her fault." Clint shrugged.

"You honestly think I would hurt a civilian?" Natasha spat at him.

"Well-"

"God, you are impossible!" Natasha yelled as the elevator doors opened. Before he could react she snatched the room key from him and marched down the hall, leaving Clint to scramble after her. He was almost to the door when he heard the lock slip into place and he groaned.

"Natasha, let me in!"

"Go away!" Natasha yelled and Clint heard something break. He sighed as he slipped his bag off and sat down beside it,leaning his back against the wall. With a yawn he closed his eyes, figuring he should get some sleep; there was no telling how long he would be stuck outside.

.

.

.

Natasha sighed as she turned over for the fifteenth time, trying to get comfortable. She had been trying to fall asleep for the last two hours, but sleep eluded her. She tried to play it off as restlessness, but Clint was nagging at the back of her mind. She had locked him out over four hours ago when her temper flared. Slowly her anger simmered down and she considered letting him in, but her pride had said no. Now she lay in bed tossing and turning, all because of him.

"For the love of," Natasha muttered as she rolled out of bed and onto her feet. She pulled on a pair of Jeans before slamming lights on, making her way towards the front door. She stopped and took a deep breath before opening it quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Clint sat slumped against the wall, his chin against his chest. His shoulders rose and fell slightly with his slow breathing and he snored softly. His once gelled hair now fell flat against his head and Natasha thought that he looked much younger than his twenty seven years.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, before reaching down and touching his shoulder gently. "Clint. Hey, wake up."

"Hm?" Clint groaned, his stiff muscles protesting any movement.

"Come on. Wake up."

"I am awake," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He finally opened his eyes and looked up at her, wincing add his neck muscles were laced with pain. "What do you want?"

"I,uh,thought you might want to come inside."

"How kind of you," Clint replied sarcastically, pushing himself to his feet. "I would have liked to come inside four hours ago."

"Don't make me lock you out again," she threatened.

"Just saying." Clint shrugged as he picked his bag up, heading into the small hotel room. He didn't hesitate in tossing his bag onto the for and grabbing a blanket. He wrapped it around himself before flopping onto the couch with a yawn. Natasha flicked the lights off and was about to shut her door when she heard Clint roll over.

"Hey Tash?"

She considered scolding him for using a pet name but decided it was a waste of breath. "Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

Natasha turned around to stare at him for a long moment. His grey eyes stared back into hers and she finally nodded slowly. "Yeah," she replied softly. She finally broke his gaze and turned away, shutting the door and putting a barrier between them once more.

**Seriously need some reviews guys! Have I lost all my readers? D:**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8. Some feedback would be great; please review or even PM me! I need to know what you guys think about this...if anyone is even reading it anymore! Another shorter chapter, but I promise the next will be longer!**

The next few days passed in mutual peace. The two agents only had a few minor arguments and they were able to work together for the most part. They laid plans for the ball, sparred, and cleaned their weapons to keep themselves distracted while they waited for the day of action. Their was still tension between them, and Natasha had by no means opened up to Clint, but they were able to hold a civil conversation without killing each other. It wasn't a big improvement, but it was a start.

The night of the ball finally rolled around and Clint was pacing the hotel room anxiously as he waited for Natasha to finish changing. He tugged at the dark purple tie that was around his neck and ran a hand over his slicked down hair, making sure it was still lying flat. Natasha had talked him into letting her give him a slight hair cut, due to that fact that his hair was becoming a bit unruly. It had taken a lot of nerve to let the woman get that close to his neck with a blade, but she hadn't nicked him once and the experience left Clint feeling like he could trust her a little more. Finally he had shaved the stubble from his face, completing his make over. Now he would fit in easily with the French nobles, or at least he hoped he would.

Clint was jerked away from his thoughts as he heard the door open behind him. He turned around and his breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of Natasha; she was stunning. The dark purple dress she wore, which matched his tie, was light and flowing, yet it clung to her in all the right places. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, a few loose curls framing her face.

"Wow," Clint finally found his voice. Natasha arched an eyebrow, asking the unspoken question. "You look...stunning." Clint elaborated.

"Whatever," Natasha rolled her eyes, ignoring his comment. She wasn't willing to admit that the compliment he had just given her made her feel good. She also wasn't willing to admit that Clint looked quite dashing once he was cleaned up and in a tux. It was a nice change from his rugged look. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Time to make our grand entry," he grinned at her, but Natasha froze in place as another memory came crashing down on her.

_Natalia frowned as she looked in the mirror, feeling odd in the flowing black dress. It had been a long time since she wore a dress, since before her mother had died. That thought made her sigh and she ran a hand through her long hair, taking another long hard look in the mirror; she barely recognized herself. She was no longer the harmless little girl Ianvitch had taken from the streets. She was now a cold, cunning assassin. It had been five years since that terrible night. The last five years of her life had been a blur of training and lessons. She had learned quickly to keep her head down and do whatever she was told, otherwise she would face severe punishment. Now it was time for Natalia to get some power of her own. She would not have enough to defy Ian, but she would have somewhat of a say in her future; a future that would always revolve around the Red Room._

_Natalia was ripped from her thoughts as her door opened and she spun around to glare at Ian. He was in a dark tux, his hair slicked back. Her lip curled in contempt, wishing she could overpower the man she absolutely despised. Because of him she would never love anyone; love was just a tool used to hurt someone. Love was for children._

_"Ah, Natalia dear, you look stunning!" Ian smiled that all too familiar cold smile. His eyes were dark and greedy, as always, and held that same lustful look that he had when he would ravish her. "Are you ready?"_

_"No," Natalia replied coldly,_

_"Fantastic! Such a joyous occasion. Come dear, let us make our grand appearance."_

_._

_._

_._

_"Now, ladies and gentlemen of the Red Room. I am proud to present my most valuable project, my dearest student, my shining star!" Ian smiled widely and gestured towards Natalia, who sat a little ways from the stage. Natalia slowly got up and made her way towards the stage, her anger mounting with every step. That man had taken her life from her. He had raped her. He had beaten her. He had forced her to submit to his will. He had broken her heart and shattered her being._

_By time she reached Ian her first were curled and she was shaking uncontrollably. She was Angry at the Red Room for taking over her life, angry at her parents for dying and leaving her, angry that no one had saved her from this hell. Angry that she had been so young and naïve. And lastly she was angry at herself for being so weak. Ian placed an arm around her shoulders and a single tear rolled down her cheek as she realized her fate was about to be sealed._

_"I present to you our newest agent. The Black Widow."_

"Natasha?" Clint's brow creased as he studied his clammy partner. She had froze in her tracks, a blank expression on her face, much like the one she wore on the plane. "Tasha," he gingerly touched her arm.

"Sorry," Natasha snapped out of her daze, taking a shaky breath.

"Memories can be quite the jerk huh?" Clint gave her a look of sympathy.

"How'd you know?" Natasha looked up in surprise.

"Because I have been there," he said softly, shrugging. "Are you ok?" He decided not to pry, not when they were making progress.

"Yeah, fine." Natasha lied. Her mind was burning with curiosity and she was dying to know what his story was, but she didn't ask. She would not tell him anything, so why should he tell her?

"Ok." Clint gave her a skeptical look, concern evident in his voice. "Let's get going then."


	9. Chapter 9

**Time for a little action, angst, despair...and a little moment :) I think a moment would be acceptable at this point. Haven't they argued enough? Time to lay that Clintasha foundation and get some friendship going! R&R! I need some serious feedback since this is a longer chapter.  
Also, before you begin reading, I am aware that nothing in this story is accurate concerning the back story of Clint and Natasha's childhood/former agencies. This is strictly stuff I made up on my own; I was bored with the original, normal back stories.**

Clint straightened his tie as the long black limo pulled up in front of the large mansion, pulling to a stop in front of the steps. The mansion's several stories were all lit up and soft music drifted out from somewhere inside. People were making their way up the steps, all dressed as elegantly as the two agents were. Natasha sighed as the limo driver came around and opened her door, waiting for her to exit the vehicle.

"Ready?" Clint asked, running a hand over his hair.

"As I'll ever be." Natasha lifted the hem of her dress as she carefully stepped out of the car. Clint joined her and she laced her arm through his, trying to resist pulling away from him. This mission required that they worked together, that they could pull off a being a couple. She did not like the way it felt when he touched her- it made her feel like she was exposed. But now, for the remainder of the night, she would have to maintain some kind of physical contact with him. The thought made her heart pound a bit harder and she swallowed nervously.

As the two agents reached the double wooden doors a burly man blocked their path, arms crossed against his chest. "Names?" He asked in a rough French accent. He was mostly bald and had a face like a bull-dog: His cheeks sagged and his eyes were deep-set.

"Vincent and Fleur Fresco," Clint replied in smooth French

"Ah, yes. Mr. Fresco. How nice of you to join us tonight. Your donations have greatly aided our effort."

"It is a pleasure to be here. May we go inside? It is slightly chilly out here and my wife does not deal with the cold well."

"Ah, yes. Please, come inside Madame," he nodded to Natasha and the "couple" entered the mansion. They followed the stream of elaborately dressed people to a large ball room, which proved to be where the music was coming from. Quite a few people were already dancing, twirling each other around the dance floor, dresses flowing and smiles on their faces.

"Shall we?" Clint asked, casting a glance down at Natasha.

"Do we have to?" She grumbled.

"I won't step on you too much," he teased, pulling her on to the dance floor.

"That is so reassuring," she rolled her eyes as he placed a hand on her waist, stepping closer to her.

Natasha was rigid as Clint began leading her through the dance, nearly tripping over herself as he twirled her out and back in. She noticed the slight crease in Clint's brow and she mentally cursed; she was trained to dance and he knew it, yet here she was tripping all over herself like an idiot. The longer they danced the stiffer Natasha became and soon Clint was struggling to cover her choppy movements as people began to notice the out of sync couple. Much to his relief a break finally came in the orchestra and he practically drug her to a quiet corner.

"What in the hell is the matter?" He frowned, not in the mood to dance around the issue.

"I don't know!"

"What do you mean you don't know? I know you know how to dance."

"I know that," she snapped irritably.

"You need to relax."

"Excuse me?"

"Relax. Breath. You are way too rigid."

Natasha scowled, realizing he was right. She was trying so hard to fight being close to him that it was affecting her dancing. Maybe he was right, maybe she needed to loosen up. With a sigh she allowed him to lead her back to the dance floor as another song started, this one slower than the waltz that had been playing before.

"Relax," Clint said in a soft voice as he placed his hand on her waist once more. She nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder and allowed him to begin to lead her along. She closed her eyes, listening to the music and keeping time with Clint without thinking about it. Soon the two had drawn the attention of the other dancers, but this time it was good attention; the two were moving in complete harmony with each other and the music effortlessly.

"Good girl," Clint smiled as he twirled her out and then in, this time without her missing a beat.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes but gave him a slight smile.

The music continued to play and they continued to dance. The action came effortlessly to the two agents and Natasha closed her eyes, allowing Clint to move her to the much. Almost naturally Natasha laid her head against Clint's chest, sighing in content; she barely seemed to notice. Clint on the other hand swallowed nervously as he looked down at her, not sure what exactly he was feeling. Her closeness was effecting him in ways he would have never thought possible; he didn't allow women to get to him. Especially not women who wanted to kill him most of the time. The music stopped playing then and Natasha pulled back, realizing what had happened. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and Clint cleared his throat, putting more space between them.

"I think it is time to get to work."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed in a small voice. "We agreed on ten, correct?"

"Unless you can see any problems with that?"

"No. That is good. Your call on the first move."

"Hmm...Let's start with Sir Isaac, he is over near the bathrooms. Plan C."

"Got it."

Natasha laced her arm through Clint's once more, this time careful to keep as much space between them as possible without drawing attention to it. Clint noticed the change and frowned slightly, but then shook his head. Why should he care? The two made their way over to where an elderly gentleman stood beside the restrooms, sipping a long glass of wine. Clint glanced at Natasha and she nodded slightly before they came to a stop right in front of him.

"Give me a minute," Natasha whispered loud enough for Isaac to hear before reaching up and kissing the corner of Clint's mouth. She then proceeded to saunter into the restroom, leaving the two men behind. It took Clint a moment to collect his thoughts, despite the fact that she hadn't actually kissed him. Isaac's huffing pulled him from his thoughts and he turned around, chuckling softly.

"She is quite the woman," Clint commented to Isaac.

"Young hooligans, kissing in public," he snorted in disgust.

"Jealous old-timer?"

"Excuse me sir?" Isaac gave him a heated look.

"Are you jealous?" Clint repeated tauntingly.

"Do you realize who you are talking to?"

"Do you?" Clint smirked.

"I do say, you young people are-"

"Vincent, dear," Natasha poked her head out the door. "Care to join me?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Sorry sir, gotta run," he winked at Isaac.

"I do say! Oh no you don't!" He stalked towards the door, preparing to grab Clint, but suddenly the two agents grabbed him and jerked him inside. Within seconds they had injected the rebel supporter with a deadly toxin and he slumped to the ground, lifeless.

"That was easy," Clint chuckled.

"Don't get cocky," Natasha rolled her eyes as they drug the man into a stall, propping him up on the toilet. "One down, nine to go."

"Your turn," Clint smiled.

"Let's go lace some punch," Natasha sighed and followed him from the bathroom. It was going to be a long time.

.

.

Things were going well, too well in Clint's opinion. The men they were targeting suspected no trouble, therefor they proved to be easy marks. The two agents had quickly taken down eight of them with ease, using various techniques to keep the suspicion to a minimum. Now they were back on the dance floor, waiting for the next mark to take a seat. Natasha was working on keeping space between herself and Clint, unwilling to let her head rest on his chest once again.

"This has been too easy," Clint commented, trying to break the silence that had settled between them.

"So far. You never know what might happen." Natasha frowned.

"I guess you have a point there." Clint shrugged, looking around. "Nine is sitting down now. Shall we?"

"Let's get this over with. I'll distract him and you lace his drink, ok?"

"Or I could distract him with my wit and charm." Clint winked at her, grinning.

"I'm sure that would work." Natasha rolled her eyes and they made their way towards the man. They were almost upon their target when the man seating beside him turned around, looking directly at Clint, who froze in his tracks.

"Ah, Agent Barton. I knew you would come over here soon enough."

"Shit." Natasha cursed under her breath. She wasn't sure who the man was, but judging by the expression on Clint's face he wasn't a friend.

"It is so nice to see you again. No, correction. It is nice to not have you trying to kill me again. This time I have the upper hand. You see, Mr. Barton, this time I came prepared. This time I will win." He chuckled darkly, sneering at them. The expression made the memories flood back and Clint was forced to close his eyes as he flew back in time.

_Nine year old Clint Barton sat huddled in a corner, clinging to his older brother as he shook uncontrollably. A cruel man paced back and forth in front of them, right through their parent's blood. He was frowning, muttering to himself under his breath as he clutched the bloody knife. The bodies of Clint's parents were tossed to the side like a pile of garbage, as if they didn't even matter. The children had just witness the man murder their parents and they feared it would soon be their turn._

_"Damned children! There is always children! Always in the way, always causing trouble!" He let out a long stream of curses, waving the knife around._

_"Toby, I am scared." Clint whimpered, burying his face in his brother's chest._

_Tobias Barton frowned as he held his little brother tighter, his dark eyes fixed on the man. "It'll be ok Clint. Don't be scared," he gave him a squeeze._

_"By all mean, tell the little brat lies," the man sneered at him._

_"Go to hell!" The fourteen year old yelled defiantly, glaring. _

_"I'm about to send you there personally, brat! You, boy, come here!" The man yelled, jerking his thumb at Clint. Toby tried to hold on to him but Clint slowly pulled away, trembling as he walked over to the man. The man leered at him, looking him up and down before smirking. He picked the knife up once more and Clint swallowed nervously; was he about to die? No. Not yet. The man had handed him the knife and crossed his arms. "Here is the deal kid. I only need one of you alive. I like you, you follow orders better than loud mouth. So you are going to kill him. If you don't, I'll have him kill you. If you both refuse, I'll cut the two of you open and leave you to bleed out. Sound fair? Now get with it," he nudged Clint towards Toby._

_Clint balked, his eyes wide as he looked frantically between Toby and the man. How was he supposed to kill his only brother, his best friend? It wasn't fair. Anger coursed through his body and he gripped the knife tighter, determination etched on his face. With a cry he leapt towards the man, dragging the knife down the length of his face. The man let out a startled cry before kicking out, catching Clint in the head. The little boy dropped to his knees, his vision swimming, and then everything went black._

Natasha frowned as she noticed several armed guards pushed through the guest, making their way over to where the agents stood. A glance at Clint told Natasha that he was still stuck in his memories. "Clint," she grabbed his arm. That seemed to snap him out of it and he glanced around, frowning.

"Damnit!" He cursed as the man slipped away and a guard opened fired. He ducked, pulling Natasha down with him as bullets began to whiz past their heads.

The entire ball room fell into chaos as women and men began screaming, running for cover as several more guards opened fired. People shoved past each other, knocking others down as they ran for the exit. Confusion and panic filled the air as the two agents remained under cover, hiding behind a table.

"What now?" Clint yelled over the commotion.

"We are going to have to wing an escape plan."

"Figures. Here." Clint handed her a pistol from inside his jacket. She slammed the clip in before firing several shots at the guards, taking two down. Clint nodded and they ran for the next table, sliding into cover as a bullet barely missed Natasha. A table splintered beside them and it wasn't long before they were on the run again, heading for the rear exit. Natasha fired return shots whenever she got a chance, but it wasn't enough to phase the guards. The rain of machine gun bullets continued to rip the ball room apart and the two agents continued to run for their lives.

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Natasha slammed the door of the hotel room shut and bolted it before leaning against it, breathing heavily. Clint collapsed into the arm chair, dropping his head to his hands as he tried to catch his breath and clear his head. Seeing that man there had shocked him and now he was angry that he had let him get away, that they had to run away like cowards.

"Damnit!" He suddenly shouted, slamming his first into the arm of the chair. Natasha noticed him wince, then she noticed the steady trickle of blood that ran down his arm.

"You're hurt," she scowled, walking over to where he sat. "Oh, shit! Clint!" Her eyes widened as she spotted the large bullet hole in his forearm. It was as big as a quarter, the flesh around it tore up.

"Crap, I didn't even feel it." Clint winced as she gently touched the surrounding area. "I'll just go wash it off."

"No you won't. The bullet is still in there. Take your jacket off and I'll fix it up."

"I can take care of myself."

"Now is not the time to be a stubborn ass! Now take it off!" She crossed her arms, glaring at him.

"Fine," he snapped and began to unbutton his jacket. Natasha crossed the room to her bag and dug around, finally pulling out her medical kit. As she turned back around she hesitated, trying to collect her thoughts as she caught sight of Clint; his upper body was bare as he straddled a chair, his chin propped on the back of the chair. His hair was tasseled now, making him look like a model, despite the bloody wound in his arm. In short, he was handsome.

"You aren't going to hurt me, are you?" Clint asked as he caught Natasha's odd look.

"No, not today." Natasha smirked slightly as she sat the kit on top of the table and opened it up. She pulled out a syringe and popped it into his skin, next to the bullet hole. Clint winced slightly but held still, trying to think about something other than the pain, but soon his arm was numb. Natasha pulled out another syringe, this one with a darker liquid, and flushed the wound. A mixture of water, blood, and antiseptic drizzled down his arm and dropped onto the floor, creating a puddle that both ignored; it could be cleaned later. Clint closed his eyes as Natasha worked and actually dozed off for a few minutes. Her touch was gentle and she was careful not to cause him unnecessary pain.

"There," Natasha taped the end of the bandage down, patting his arm gingerly. "We'll need to change out the bandages later, but it should heal up fine."

"Thanks." Clint gave her an appreciative grin. "Are you ok?"

"Am I ok? I'm not the one that got shot. I should be asking if you are ok."

"I am good as new Tasha. See?" He flexed his arm before rotating it in a full circle.

"Alright." Her features finally relaxed and Clint was able to see just how tired she was.

"Are you sure you are ok?"

"Yeah, I am fine. Can I ask you something?" She asked suddenly, turning to face him once more.

"Go for it," Clint shrugged, knowing her question already.

"That man...who was he Clint?"

"He...He is the reason I am here today. He is the reason my brother is dead."

_When Clint came to his head was pounding and his vision was still fuzzy. He heard Toby calling his name, but it sounded far away, like he was in a tunnel. Suddenly cold water hit his face and he bolted upright, breathing heavily. Toby was crouched beside him, concern evident in his dark eyes. Clint looked around, frowning as he realized they were in a small basement._

_"Toby, what happened? Where are we?"_

_"I don't know Clint. That guy brought us here and locked us in. He said we have an hour to make a decision or he will kill us both." Toby scowled and Clint shrunk back in fear; would his older brother be willing to kill him?_

_"B-but that isn't fair!"_

_"Life isn't fair, Clint." Toby replied a bit coldly before crouching down to his brother's level once more, pulling out a knife. Clint was paralyzed and couldn't seem to move, his eyes fixated on the knife in his brother's hand. "You are going to kill me Clint."_

_"No!" The little boy didn't hesitate in screaming the word._

_"Yes! I can't let him hurt you Clint. You have a future ahead of you. I promised mom and dad I would take care of you if something ever happened to them, and now I am doing that. You have to do this."_

_"I can't Toby." Clint couldn't stop the fat tear that rolled down his cheek. "I love you."_

_"I love you too, which is why you have to do this. Look at me." Toby titled Clint's face up and those innocent grey eyes stared back at him. "You are strong Clint, stronger than I am. You are brave, smart, and clever. You can do this. Then one day you can avenge me. I know it. You are going to go places Clint." Toby pulled his brother into a hug, holding him tightly._

_"I'm scared Toby."_

_"Don't be. Don't think about it Clint. Do this for me. For mom and dad. Just promise me one thing. Promise me that you will that the dirty bastard that did this."_

_"I promise."_

_The boys were interrupted as the door creaked open and the murderer stepped inside. A thick gauze bandage was on his face and his eyes were cold and cruel. He sneered at the boys as he walked towards them, a gun hanging loosely in his hand. "Well, have you made a decision?"_

"So I shot him." Clint finished, dropping his gaze to the floor as he finished his tale. "I...I just closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Then it was over." Silence fell over the table and Natasha stared at him with a blank face, like always. Clint sucked in a choppy breath, raking a hand through his hair. "I promised Toby I would kill that bastard and I've yet to do it. He always gets away from me."

"Clint," Natasha finally managed, a look of horror on her face. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too...Toby should have killed me instead. I failed him."

"No," Natasha shook her head before standing up and walking over to him. "You haven't failed him at all. Toby was right about you. Just because you haven't beat your demon yet doesn't mean you won't." She hesitated a moment before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. Clint didn't hesitate as he dropped his head against her shoulder, drawing strength from his partner. No, he corrected himself. His friend.

**Thoughts, Comments, Rude Remarks?...**


	10. Chapter 10

Natasha sighed as she stared out the window of the plane, watching the clouds fly past. The inside of the plane was clouded by a thick silence that was only breached by Clint's occasional snoring. The low hum of the engines was like a spell and she yawned sleepily, blinking to keep herself awake. Part of her wanted to sleep, but her brain was alert and wide awake as she thought about the man that sat across the aisle from her. It had been three months since Paris. Three months since she had made a friend. IT was still hard for her to believe that Clint had somehow wormed his way in, that he had breached all her defenses. Hard to believe, but not necessarily a bad thing. She had to admit to herself that she enjoyed his company, most of the time-he did have the tendency to be an ass at times. Another yawn escaped her body and she sighed once more, shaking her head. She was thinking far too much lately.

"You should get some rest. " Clint's voice shattered the silence, starling her. She frowned as she turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I am fine."

"Yeah, right. We've been flying for ten hours now and you have yet to get some rest. I promise I won't let the plane crash or anything- get some sleep."

"I don't know…"

"Take a nap, Tasha." Clint smirked at her.

"Fine." Natasha glared at him before closing her eyes, her breathing slowing as she relaxed.

Clint studied her for a moment, a slight smile on his face, as he thought about the last year and a half. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that he was working with the person who he had been sent to kill; that one of America's most wanted assassins was now on his side. And now she was his friend. Clint shook his head at that thought, sighing. Only a few people were close enough for him to a call friend, and now she was one of them. She was also his partner. Ever since their mission in Paris they had been sent on more missions together, quickly becoming one of the best teams in the world. Sometimes Clint felt as if he had known her his entire life, but other times she was still a stranger. He had to admit that they really didn't know anything about each other's past; it was a touchy subject and usually resulted in an argument when brought up. Both had their demons they wanted to hide. Both had red on their ledgers.

"Hey, Clint?" Natasha suddenly sat up and looked at him.

"Hmm?" Clint looked up at her, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?" He absently picked at his nails.

"I was thinking about Paris…and your brother. You had said that the man gave you a knife in the basement….but then later you said you shot him. What happened?" She asked in a quiet tone.

"Ah," Clint made a face, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to force down painful memories.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked." Natasha pursed her lips.

"Nah, you are fine. Uh, Toby was the one who asked to be shot. The man, Tom Hankler, had drug us into the backyard, handed me a knife, and told me to get on with it. Toby knew I couldn't do it, so he asked to be shot. The man had laughed, handed me an extra gun, his own was pointed at me in case I tried anything, and told me to shoot him…I just closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Toby was looking out for me, even in the face of death. The man left us alone then and I didn't see him again for a long time. I remember crying for what seemed like hours, and then I buried Toby." Clint sighed as ran a hand through his hair. Natasha just nodded slowly as silence crept into the air once more.

"What did he look like?" She finally asked.

Clint hesitated a moment before pulling his wallet out. He opened it and pulled out a photograph, offering it to her. She took it gingerly, feeling as if she was holding part of his childhood. Two young boys were in the picture, standing in front of a nice house. The shorter boy had blue grey eyes and untidy brown hair. He was lean and had a shit-eating grin, a familiar shit-eating grin; Clint's. The boy next to him was taller and stouter. He had bright green eyes and dark brown, almost black, hair. He had an easy-going smile on his face and his arm was slung over his younger brother's shoulders in a carefree manner.

"He was a good-looking kid." Natasha handed the picture back, a small smile playing at her lips.

"He was a good kid." Clint said softly.

"His brother is a good kid too." She touched his hand briefly, detecting the sadness in his voice. "Who do you look like, your mom or your dad?" Natasha knew she was prying, but for some reason she cared about his past, unlike the other people she knew.

"Toby looked like my mom; he got all the good looks." Clint chuckled, a nostalgic smile on his face. "I looked like my dad- a little taller, more ripped. Mom always said I was his mini." He smirked. "And what about you? Who do you look like?" Clint asked before he lost his nerve; he had spent months breaking down the walls that she had put up and he knew she wouldn't hesitate in throwing them back up.

"My mom…" Natasha sighed. Clint nodded, satisfied with the answer, but she continued speaking, much to his surprise. "I was an only child. My father worked for the Russian Intelligence Agency and my mother stayed with me so we wouldn't have to move around so much. I remember that we were happy…like a normal family." Natasha reached under her chair and pulled her bag out, digging through it for several moments before producing a picture. She passed it to Clint, who took it and began to take in every detail.

A tall man leaned against a tree, an easy-going smile on his face. The laugh lines on his face reflected the humor in his blue eyes and he had one arm around his wife's waist. His wife was shorter with red hair and green eyes that shone with love as she looked at her daughter; the young girl had a mess of red curls and bright green eyes. She was wearing a yellow dress with little white flowers, a wide smile on her face as she struck a pose. She looked happy and carefree, unlike the stern-faced woman that sat across from him.

"You need to smile," he handed the picture back to her with a grin.

"I do smile."

"No, you always give those half smiles or smirks. I've never seen you smile like that."

"That was a long time ago…back when there was something to smile about."

"Ok." Clint shrugged, not forcing the issue. "You were a cute little kid.

"Whatever," Natasha rolled her eyes, taking the picture back. She stared at the faces of her parents and her mind slowly took her back in time, back to a better place.

_"Mommy!" Natalia giggled as her mother sat the birthday cake down in front of her. "It is so pretty!" She beamed up at her mother._

_"Not as pretty as you." Her mother tapped her nose with a smile, pulling her into a hug. "Are you excited?"_

_"Of course she is excited!" A deep voice commented from the hall. Natalia squealed as she spun around, running straight into her father's arms. He swept her up and spun her in a circle, smiling. "Ah, darling. I missed you!"_

_"I missed you too daddy." Natalia hugged his neck, smiling._

_"have you been behaving?"_

_"Of course!"_

_"I shouldn't have even asked." He father laughed as he sat her down. "I have a surprise for you."_

_"What?" Natalia grinned up him, squirming in excitement._

_"Your mother and I have decided to let you have a puppy. We can go pick one out this evening."_

_Natalia squealed, hugging her father and then her mother. "Thank you!"_

_"Of course," her father laughed. Now let's eat some cake!"_

"We had just sat down to eat cake when it happened," Natasha finally spoke, voicing her thoughts. Clint leaned forward, listening to everything she had to say. "It was my twelfth birthday party. My father had just came home from an over seas assignment. We were sitting at the table, eating cake and talking about puppies when we heard something crash upstairs. My father reached for his gun, only to remember it was upstairs in his suitcase. Footsteps could be heard overhead and my father quickly urged us into the coat closet. He said he was going to go upstairs to take care of things. He gave my mother a kiss and hugged me, telling us he loved us. And then he was gone. We waited in silence for what seemed like hours; I clung to my mother like the helpless child I was, crying silently. We heard a gunshot but we weren't sure who's it was; my father's or the intruders? A few minutes later we heard footsteps and they weren't my father's. The man found us then. He pulled us out of the closet and shot my mother before leaving me there to suffer alone. I ran away in shame and fear. I lived on the street for months...and then Ian found me." Her tone turned cold at the last statement and Clint knew she was done sharing.

"You never forget those last moments." Clint shook his head sadly.

"No, you don't." Natasha agreed bitterly. "I don't believe in ghost, but a memory is haunting."

"I will drink to that. Why don't you get some sleep? We will be landing in a few hours- I'll keep an eye on things."

"Okay." Natasha didn't argue with him this time and instead closed her eyes, leaning her head back. She was tired and wanted to escape the thoughts that clouded her head.

"Hey, Tasha?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for sharing that with me." Clint touched her shoulder before heading towards the rear of the plane. Natasha nodded slowly before closing her eyes once more, determined to escape reality, even if it was only for a few hours.

**Thoughts, Opinions, Rude remarks? I just threw this together tonight for you guys since my internet has been out for days. I have you enjoyed: Just trying to get my version of their back stories out there since they will be coming into play later. Next up...Budapest!**


	11. Chapter 11

**So I lied. No Budapest yet. I came up with this while riding yesterday. Feedback would be great. Thanks for all the reads, reviews, and favorites!**

_Natasha sighed as she sat alone on the isolated beach, watching the thunderheads roll in towards her. The waves lapped at the beach and thunder rolled in the distance as lightning lashed out across the dark sky. She took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of the storm, and smiled in satisfaction. There was nothing like a good storm to calm the nerves. She began picking up small shells and tossed them into the violent waves, only to have them wash back up mere feet from her. She knew it was dangerous to be out on the beach during a storm, but this is where she felt at home; the storm was a wild, untamed force, much like herself. It belonged to no one, it couldn't be controlled._

"Wake up." The concern and urgency in Clint's pierced through Natasha's dream and her eyes flew open. She was on her feet in seconds, her hand on the pistol that hung at her side.

"What's wrong?" She demanded as she felt the plane rock more than usual.

"We are under fire. All of our radio's are down at the moment; they blew the communicators off. The captain sent out a distress signal...I think."

"Fantastic." Natasha lurched and then braced herself against the wall as the plane teetered. "How close to Kenya are we?"

"Not close enough to get support. We are over the Sahara Desert right now, about to cross the Algeria border into Niger."

"Shit!" Natasha grabbed onto the chair as the plane rocked once more. Suddenly the plane jerked more violently than it had before and there was a terrible screeching sound, like metal being torn. And then the back half of the small plane was dropping through the air, leaving the top half shaking uncontrollably. The plane dipped upwards and she lost her grip on the chair and began sliding down the aisle, unable to grab on to anything. This is how she was going to die, this was the end. She could see the endless desert through the hole she was sliding towards; her grave. No one would find her. She would die alone.

But then Clint was there, pulling her back to her feet and towards him. He wrapped a strong arm around her wist and held her close to him, pressing them against the row of chairs as the plane began to dip downwards. He braced himself and Natasha clung to him for dear life as they plummeted towards the ground. There was a loud crash, an explosion of sand, and then everything went black.  
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Clint moaned as he began to regain consciousness; his head was pounding and every fiber of his body hurt. His mouth was dry and he felt hot- extremely hot. With a groan he forced his eyes open and sat up, his head swimming as he tried to focus. He looked up and the scene before him made his stomach churn. The front half of the four man plane was partially buried in the sand. One of the pilots hung half way out of the cock pit window, which was busted. Provisions laid scattered around the crash sight and smoke drifted up from several miles away, where the tail end had landed. One of his bags and bow case lay a few feet from him, miraculously unharmed. He looked up to find several vultures circling overhead, waiting for the desert to do its work so they could claim their meal.

Clint dropped his gaze and found an even more terrifying sight. A crumpled woman lay near him, blood smeared down her cheek. Her arm was pinned underneath her and Clint see blood trickling from a thick gash on her arm. A vulture was hopping nearby, getting bolder with every passing second. He finally snapped at a piece of her hair, tugging at it experimentally.

"Hey!" Clint yelled feebly, pushing himself to his feet. He wasn't injured, but he still felt dazed from the crash. He staggered towards the woman and the bird, waving his hands in attempt to shoo it off. Eventually the bird leaped into the air with a screech, flying back towards its flock overhead. Clint reached the woman and bent down, pressing his fingers to her neck; there was a pulse. She was alive. Relief coursed through his body, and then determination.

"Hang in there Tasha." Clint shook his head to clear the last bit of fogginess that remained and made his way to the wreck of the plane. He began checking the scattered supply cases and soon found what he was looking for; a blanket.

The desert heat made the work harder than it normally would be, but soon Clint had managed to roll Natasha onto the blanket. He drug her into the shade of the plane and made her as comfortable as possible, then turned towards the wreckage. He had a lot of work to do.

First Clint drug the two dead pilots away from the wreck and over the sand dunes, out of sight and out of mind. He then began gathering the loose provisions up, stacking them beside the plane before the vultures had a chance to pick at them. He made a mental checklist of what they had and decided that they were in ok shape for now; there was plenty of food and water. Other than their missing luggage they had what they needed to survive for a couple of days. After taking inventory he grabbed two bottles of water and a first aid kit and made his way back to his partner's side. She had a small cut on her forehead that resulted in the blood on her face. The gash on her bicep wasn't as deep as it looked, so Clint cleaned them off and then bandaged them the best he could; that kind of stuff wasn't his forte.

"Time to wake up." Clint gently shook her shoulder but received no response. He opened a bottle of water and poured a bit on her face, nudging her once more. "Come on Tasha."

Natasha moaned and then her eyes fluttered open. Clint let out a pent up breath and smiled, helping her sit up. She frowned in confusion as she looked around her, then realization dawned on her.

"Where'd we crash?"

"Somewhere between Niger and Algeria. Not sure where exactly." Clint shrugged. The situation wasn't the best, but things were definitely looking better.  
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"So what's the plan?" Natasha asked as she sat down underneath the make shift canopy. The two, mostly Clint, had spent the afternoon preparing a camp of sorts. He had used the rods off the plane's railing to erect four poles in the ground. He then covered them with a tarp, making a square of shade. They had detached two of the four chairs left on the plane and moved them into the shade, where both agents now sat.

"It is getting too late to do anything at the moment. Radios are still down and I honestly don't know where we are. I do know that the sun will be going down in a few hours and I am not sleeping out here in the open. I am going to use a tarp to cover that hole in the cock pit so I can store our provisions in there. Then I am going to pull the last two chairs out so we have a place to sleep."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. You've already done too much. Just sit there and rest."

"But-"

"No but's." He said sternly, giving her his best serious look.

"Fine...Jerk." Natasha frowned at him.

"Excuse me for trying to keep you healthy." He frowned back at her before getting to work.

Natasha watched as he began fixing the hole in the cock pit, feeling useless. As she watched him struggle with the tarp she felt as if she could be helping him; instead she was stuck in this damned chair. She was somewhat grateful he had told her to stay put as he began to pull the last two chairs out, sweat dripping down his face. Finally Clint rejoined her under the canopy and sat down with a yawn.

"There, that is all done."

"Now what?"

"Now we get to move all this stuff. You can help with that if you want."

Natasha nodded and together the two of them began moving provisions back into the plane. While Clint organized everything Natasha began to use extra blankets and tarps to make a pallet of sorts in the middle of the plane. She found a few pillows outside and tossed them down, nodded in satisfaction; it wasn't the best, but she had slept on worse. For a moment her mind drifted back to the roach motel she had stayed in Japan, but she shook the thoughts from her head with a sigh. No use fretting over the past.

Clint reappeared at that moment, his bow case and a lantern in hand. He sat them down next to the pallet before yawning and stretching. "You all good?"

"Yep." She leaned against the wall of the plane, shivering slightly. She could tell the temperature had dropped several degrees since they had "landed".

"I am going to make sure I didn't miss anything. I found one of my bags. You can dig through it and try to find something warm to wear. It gets cold out here at night." He tossed her the bag and Natasha finally noticed that he had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Okay."

"If you need anything just holler." He grabbed a flashlight and then he was gone.  
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Clint returned half an hour later, right after nightfall. Natasha was now wearing a pair of his sweats and a hoodie that was far too big for her. Clint chuckled slightly and she glared at him before turning the lantern on. He grabbed the last tarp they had and secured it over the hole in the back of the plane, sealing them in and unwanted creatures out.

"I am exhausted." Clint sat down with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Only because you wouldn't let me help with anything." Natasha glared at him.

"You don't need to strain your arm today. Speaking of that, are you feeling ok?" He asked as she sat down beside him, crossing her legs.

"I am fine. I feel a lot better actually."

"Good. We should get some sleep." Clint kicked off his shoes before turning the lantern off. Darkness took over the plane as Clint crawled under a layer of blanket, adjusting his pillow under his head. He felt Natasha crawl in beside him and he rolled over the face her. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I am fine Clint." He could practically hear the eye roll in her voice and he chuckled. "What?" She demanded.

"Nothing." Clint grinned. "Go to sleep."

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The first thing that Natasha noticed as she began to wake up was the smell; whatever it was, it smelled fantastic. It was a mixture of sweat, axe, and something musky. She inhaled deeply and noticed that her head was resting on something hard, yet comfortable. She opened her eyes slowly, wincing as the light from the windows temporarily blinded her. She blinked a few times, then realized her head was on Clint's chest. She was tucked against his side and his arm was slung over her waist. She froze, part of her wanting to jerk away and put distance between them. The other part of her had no desire to move. She finally decided she was quite comfortable and she shrugged before closing her eyes once more; she felt Clint's chest vibrate beneath her and his breath tickled her ear as he chuckled.

"Someone is comfortable." His voice was deep and husky from sleep.

"So what if I am." Natasha scowled.

"Don't be so touchy," Clint nudged her ribs with a finger.

"Don't make stupid remarks."

"Not much of a morning person, huh?" Clint continued to tease her. "Maybe you just need some coffee...Want me to get up and make you some eggs and bacon?"

"Ass." Natasha mumbled she but didn't move, closing her eyes once more.

"Yes, I have an ass. I also have a-"

"Ugh." Natasha cut him off, slapping his chest. "I am trying to sleep."

"Yeah, on top of me. My apologies...princess." He added the last bit with a smirk, knowing it would set her off.

"Fine, I'll get up! Happy now?" She glared at him as she rolled over and sat up, yawning.

"Yes, Because I need to piss like a racehorse." There it was, that shit-eating grin of his. She rolled her eyes and slugged his arm before standing up, heading towards the cock pit as her stomach rumbled. A few minutes later Clint rejoined her and together they dug out a few bottles of water, some trail mix and jerky.

"Breakfast of champions." Natasha commented as they sat down outside, underneath the canopy. The sand was warm underneath her feet and she sighed contently. "This feels good," she wiggled her toes in the sand.

"We are practically at the beach," Clint teased. "Just watch out for spiders instead of crabs... There happens to be one by your foot."

"Gah!" Natasha jerked her feet up and Clint started snickering, looking away as he tried to keep a straight face. "You are such an ass!"

"What's the matter? Scared of a little spider?"

"No! But you should be." She glared at him and threw a pretzel at his head. "On a more serious note, how long do you think we are going to be stuck out here?"

"I dunno. The pilot sent out a distress signal before we crashed. I imagine SHIELD will locate us within a few days; we are pretty valuable you know. Until then we can enjoy our tropical vacation."  
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"Honestly, you are such a child." Natasha said in an annoyed tone as Clint splashed water at her. They had found a small oasis near the crash sight and decided to take advantage of it. Clint's shirt was tossed onto the sand beside Natasha, who sat in the shade of a palm tree. Her eyes scanned the horizon and she tried to find something to look at other than her shirtless partner. A light splay of hair ran down his chest and belly. His shorts, weighted down with water, hung low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination.

"Come on, come swim." He whined like a little kid.

"I plan on it, as soon as you stop acting stupid."

"Fine. I'll stop. Scout's honor." He grinned at her. She just rolled her eyes before pulling her shirt off, tossing it onto the desert sand beside his. She now wore nothing but a sports bra and a pair of his short; Clint shook the suggestive thoughts from his head and sighed. He knew it was crazy, but he had to admit that his partner was stunning, even when she was pissed at him.

"Stop gawking at me." Natasha splashed water at him with a frown.

"Stop being a child," Clint attempted to mock her but it was a horrible imitation. She rolled her eyes and Clint splashed her back with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up!"

"Nah, I like to bug you." Clint grinned at her and dodged another splash. He hadn't seen this side of Natasha before. She was more laid back, more carefree...more normal. It had been three days since they had crashed in the Sahara Desert and he felt like something had changed between them. He couldn't quite but his finger on it, but he knew something was up.

His thoughts were interrupted as his head was forced underwater. Water ran up his nose and he came up sputtering, spitting water out of his mouth. Natasha was smirking at him, her arms crossed and a look of satisfaction on her face. Clint slowly grinned at her and the smirk faded as she backed away.

"Don't you even!"

"You started it." Clint grinned.

"Stay away from me!" She began back peddling through the water but Clint grabbed her leg, pulling her back towards him.

"Revenge is oh so sweet." He dunked her under the water, laughing as he held her in place for a moment. When he let her go she surfaced closer to him than either had anticipated ; she was practically nose to nose with him and he gave her that smart ass grin. "Well, hello there."

Natasha tried to form some kind of intelligent response, but his closeness was causing her brain to go foggy. The grin slowly faded from his face as they continued to stare at each other, their eyes boring into one another's. She could practically feel the rise and fall of his chest and she managed to swallow. His lips parted slightly and he dipped his head; she knew what was coming but she couldn't move; looking back on it, maybe she didn't want to move. She felt an unfamiliar sensation in her stomach and her heart hammered in her chest. And then Clint Barton kissed her.


	12. Chapter 12

**It is nearly one in the morning, so I am going to need some feedback on this. Keep or re-write this chapter? It is probably crappy since I am half asleep, but I am trying to get something out there for y'all. I have been getting my horse ready for a show, so I haven't had much free time and I apologize for that. Thanks to anyone who is still reading and please let me know what you think. Don't be afraid to tell me it is crap!**

The sun had gotten to her and she had gone completely insane. That was the only explanation that Natasha could come up with to explain her current actions; She was standing waist deep in water beside her partner, wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts. Her arms were wrapped around _his_ neck and she was kissing _him_ back. Oh, she knew it was wrong. Every fiber of her brain was screaming at her to pull away, to get rid of him before the damage could be done, but she knew it was too late. Her hands were already running through his short hair as his hands tangled in her long locks and she liked it. She liked the way his lips felt on hers, the way he tasted, the way he made her feel human. Natasha closed her eyes as he kissed her, taking every detail into memory, afraid that she would somehow forget this moment. And then it was over.

"Nat, I-" Clint didn't hesitate in speaking as they pulled apart, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath.

"Don't." Natasha took a step back, putting space between them as she tried to clear her head. "Please don't say you are sorry this happened. Say anything, but don't say that. I can't handle hearing it...again." Her tone was icy and hurt, just like her heart. Within seconds she had thrown those walls back up and retreated to her old ways; she had let him in and he hurt her, just like Ianvitch. He was going to tear her down and she already felt the pain forming in her chest. He had become her friend, her best friend if she was being honest with herself. They argued and occasionally came to blows, but they were also a team: Two parts to a whole. And he had just destroyed that.

"Not everyone in life is going to hurt you Nat." Clint's eyes were sad as he stepped towards her, putting a hand on her arm to keep her from backing up again. "And you should know by now that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Do you trust me?"

Trust, the word that made Natasha inwardly cringe. The last person she had truly trusted was Ianvitch and he had betrayed her. Ever since then her life had been full of lies and false promises, promises that left her colder and wearier each time they were broke. She quickly learned not to trust or love anyone, that promises were made to be broken. But then there was Clint, the exception to all her rules. He had never tried to hurt her, he had never lied; if anything he had always been overly blunt about things. But it had meant something to her, even if she hadn't realized it until now. Her mind drifted back to the last few months and she found herself admitting that she enjoyed the time they had spent together, but she also realized that she did trust him, more than anyone she had ever known. He hadn't let her down, never made a promise he couldn't keep.

Natasha felt the tears forming and she blinked rapidly, not willing to break the countless years of not crying. Clint frowned as the silence spanned between them and he finally took a step back, nodding to himself. "I understand." His jaw set and he turned his back to her, staring daggers into the horizon. He was the worlds biggest idiot. What in the hell had he been thinking?

"Clint." Natasha finally found her voice, which cracked as she said his name. Clint turned around, a hurt look on his face that broke through Natasha's walls. She shook her head before stepping forward and hugging him, pressing her face again his chest. "Yes."

"Huh?" He frowned in confusion.

"Yes, I trust you. I'm sorry-you know I am no good at this stuff."

"And I am?" He laughed bitterly. "I was going to say I am sorry if I made you mad or hurt you; I know you are a lot like me. Hell, who am I kidding, we are practically the same person. We don't like to establish connections with people, we don't like friends and we avoid anything that could lead to a relationship." Clint searched for the right words, knowing it was best to avoid the word love. "So I know that me acting on impulse probably shocked the shit out of you and I would understand if you were mad...Or hurt." Clint scratched the back of his neck as he dropped his gaze, wishing he could come up with something better than that.

"I'm not mad...just a bit surprised, that is all. And confused." Natasha admitted it, sighing.

"Confused?"

"I don't want to feel like this Clint. I don't want to risk getting hurt, I don't want to set myself up for that. But part of me wants this. I don't know where it is coming from, but I want to fight it. But I know I can't fight you."

"You don't have to. We can forget this ever happened, I won't ever mention it again."

"I don't want to forget."

"But you just-"

"You talk way too much." Natasha mused before reaching up and kissing him once more. When they pulled apart Clint was surprised to see she was actually smiling, amusement in her eyes as she assessed his expression. "What's the matter Barton? Never been kissed before?"

"I, uh," Clint mumbled dumbly, trying to reboot his brain.

"Apparently not." Natasha smirked at him, splashing water at his face. "Snap out of it bird boy." Natasha considered kissing him again, but then the faint sound of a chopper reached her ears. Clint heard it to and he seemed to snap out of it, his eyes training on the sky.

"I'll be damned. Fury found us."

"About damn time. I want a shower. And a hot meal."

"A bed would be nice." Clint added, putting distance between them; there was no use to raise suspicion with any of SHIELDS superiors when he wasn't even sure what was happening between himself and Natasha.

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy our temporary sleeping arrangements?" Natasha asked with a straight face, inwardly smirking as Clint's jaw dropped.

"I,uh,no, that's not-"

"Stop being so serious all the time."

"Do you realize how ironic it is for _you _to say that to _me_?" Clint snorted.

"Oh, whatever." She rolled her eyes as they waded out of the water and onto the beach. "I guess we should head back to the plane; the chopper is pretty close."

"I agree. But I have one question."

"Hmm?" Natasha asked, slipping on a shirt and wringing out her hair.

"What is exactly is all this?" Clint gestured to them, raising an eyebrow.

"A mess." Natasha responded with a sad smile, but it was the truth. She wasn't sure what they had just started and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Things were going to get messy.

**As far as time goes, these events are probably taking place about a year to a year and a half after he rescued her. Don't think it is too soon, because it going to be messy; I can't just give you fluff without throwing in some drama and problems :) I also apologizes for errors. I really need to find a proof reader!**


	13. Chapter 13

**So I am going to assume that last chapter was ok and go on with the story. This is about two weeks later and just a little fluff before Budapest, since that will be nice and angsty :) Definitely a longer chapter, so please drop a review and thanks for reading!  
**

Natasha Romanoff sighed as she sat alone on the roof of a SHIELD housing unit, her legs dangling over the ledge as she stared at the full moon. She was an emotional wreck, there was no getting around that fact, and it frustrated her. She found herself spending most of her free time with Clint, although she wasn't sure why, and found herself feeling lonely when he wasn't around. The two never spoke about what happened in the desert, but when they were alone they would share a chaste kiss then go on their way. They never mentioned their feelings, never voiced their thoughts, but maybe they didn't have to; Natasha realized that they had a unique partnership, one that needed few words. She had to admit to herself that she felt something for Clint, something that she hadn't felt before, but she had no idea what it was. All she knew was that she wanted to be around him and it made her feel vulnerable. She was supposed to be a cold hearted assassin who blocked out the world, yet Clint was chipping away those walls and showing her how to be human, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Natasha shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, looking up at the moon once more. Most of SHIELDS lights were off, leaving a few stars visable in the night sky. She picked out a few of the celestial patterns, taking a moment to admire the view. Before she had met Clint she never stopped to do things like this; everything had been focused on the next job, her next kill. But now she was starting to appreciate the smaller things in life, such as the stars and the moon. Why was Clint able to change years of hardness? What made him different than any other person on earth? She had to admit that she didn't have the slightest clue.

"This is the last place I would expect to see you." Clint's voice made her jump and she twisted around to see him walking towards her, a lazy air about him. He was wearing jeans and a purple shirt, his sun glasses hanging from the neck, despite the fact that it was dark outside. "What are you doing up here?"

"Am I not allowed up here?" She looked up at him, waiting for him to sit down.

"Yes, but this is my usual spot. It is a good place to get away and admire the view." Clint smiled and sat down beside her, turning around to hang his own legs over the ledge. "Although the view is extra nice tonight," he nudged her with a teasing grin.

"Whatever." Natasha rolled her eyes, ignoring his teasing. "What are you doing up here?"

"Needed to think. And you?"

"Same." Natasha shrugged and realized that she was somewhat hoping he would have kissed her by now. There was no way she would kiss him first, she wasn't ready for that, but she wanted to feel his lips against hers.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Clint leaned back on his palms, gazing up at the stars. "One day we need to get out of here, go some where that is truly dark. You'd be amazed at how many stars there are," he added, giving her a chance to escape his question."

"We'll have to do that in all our free time." Natasha smiled slightly. "I just needed to get away for a while.

"I understand." Clint nodded. "I was thinking about us." That got her attention and she looked at him once more, a curious expression on her face that told him he should elaborate. "I'm confused Nat. I've never really cared about anyone before. I've always been the lone wolf, the person that always looked after himself and ignored others. But then you came along, and now I feel myself worrying about your safety and how you feel. And it confuses me. I can't figure out what makes you different, what drew me to you in the first place. I feel lost."

"At least we are on the same track," she admitted, looking down at her hands. "Part of me knows this is so wrong, that I shouldn't be sitting here right now. When you care about people they hurt you, or others use them to hurt you. You are supposed to live a lone life, supposed to kill your emotions and be a blank slate. I've spent years living with that mentality and I've built walls up, but here you are chipping them down and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I don't even like to talk to people, yet here I am sharing all this with you." She sighed in defeat.

"Sorry." Clint said after a moment, his forehead creasing as he frowned. "I don't want to do that to you Nat, I understand how you feel. Say the word and I'll stop. We can go back to trying to kill each other and forget any of this happened."

"That wouldn't work and you know it. Don't be sorry though...I don't think this is a bad thing Clint...it is just different."

"Ok." Clint sighed as he looked up at the stars, his blue eyes holding that sad expression once more. Natasha hated to see him like that; damn him for feeling responsible for everything.

"I guess what I am trying to say is that you need to kiss me," she finally said, looking straight ahead.

"Is that so?" Clint raised an eyebrow and smirked at her, amused by the factual tone she used.

"Yep." She finally turned to look at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I guess I could...not too much of an inconvenience." Clint smiled before dipping his head and kissing her. This kiss was long and slow, unlike some of their heated and hurried kisses that they had shared throughout the week. Natasha found that she liked this and was disappointed when he pulled away. "Better?"

"Somewhat." She finally smiled as leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Something big is coming. Coulson's been acting strange lately."

"You noticed too?" Clint frowned. "I wonder if he knows about this?"

"Not likely. I think has something to do with Stark. I've seen him floating around the base lately."

"Ah...I really don't like him."

"Jealous?" She teased with a smirk.

"No. He is just an arrogant ass."

"Fair enough." Natasha yawned, closing her eyes.

"Don't fall asleep on me. You are likely to fall over the ledge."

"You wouldn't let me."

"Glad to know you have a little faith in me," Clint chuckled. "You should get some sleep. We have a training session tomorrow. If you are sleepy it will be too easy to kick your ass."

"Alright pretty boy, we will see who's ass gets kicked. One of these days you are going to get it."

"I won't hold my breath till then." Clint smiled and watched her as she got up, stretching. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Bright and early for an ass kicking."

"Alright," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Night Nat."

"Good night, Clint."

. . . . . . .

"Rise and shine princess," Clint flipped the lights in Natasha's room on, his usual grin plastered on his face. For once it was him who needed to wake Natasha up, instead of her waking him up. The whole situation amused him and he planned on taking advantage of it. "Time to wake up." He said cheerfully as he crossed the room.

"Go away," Natasha mumbled, her voice muffled by her pillow. She was lying on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow and her arms and legs splayed out across the bed. Clint considered lying on top of her, but decided it wasn't worth the pain she'd put him through. Instead he grabbed the edge of the blanket and flicked it away, but that backfired. The smirk on his face faded as he starred dumbly at her, trying to remember how to breath. Natasha was wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts(he had wondered where it went) and a pair of underwear.

"You are _such_ an ass!" Natasha rolled over and sat up, scowling at him, completely oblivious to the fact that she had unintentionally stunned him into silence. "Give me that." She snatched the blanket back from him and wrapped it around herself before falling over on her side with a yawn. "Five more minutes."

"I can think of several things to do in that five minutes." Clint realized he had voiced the thought when Natasha arched an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Is that a fact?"

"Uh..."

"Very intelligent answer." Natasha rolled her eyes before pointing at the door. "Out. Or I'll have to kick your ass now."

"Sorry." Clint fumbled with the door before letting himself out, shutting it behind him with a sigh. That woman was going to be the death of him. He tried to keep his thoughts in check as he waited for Natasha, but the image was permanently burned into his brain; at the moment he wanted more than a kiss. His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened and Natasha stepped out, a smug look on her face.

"Ready?"

"Yep." Clint rolled his shoulders and yawned as they headed towards the gym, wishing that he had slept a bit later.

"Tired already?"

"I was up late."

"Why?"

"Dreams." He replied simply, knowing he didn't need to elaborate. After SHIELD had picked them up from the desert they had been dropped in Kenya to wrap up what the other agents had already started. They had spent one night there together and ended up sharing a bed, although nothing came from it. But in the middle of the night Clint had woken Natasha up as he thrashed about, mumbling and sweating in his sleep. Instinctively she reached out to hold him, which allowed him to settle down and sleep through the night. In the morning he had discussed the frequent nightmares with her, although he didn't go into detail; just saying it was about his brother was enough for her to understand.

"Sorry." She briefly touched his hand. "When's the last time you slept all night?" She suddenly seemed to notice the bags under his eyes and frowned. Was he really able to distract her from the obvious signs that he wasn't sleeping? And was he doing it on purpose? Natasha wouldn't be surprised if the answer to both was yes; he was the type of person to keep her from worrying.

"Um, Kenya I think." He shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Kenya? How are you still functioning?"

"You get used to it over time." He sighed.

"No one can just get used to it...I would know," she frowned. "We''l talk later," Natasha added as they entered the gym, letting him know the discussion wasn't over. They separated as they stepped onto the mat, each taking a few minutes to stretch and warm up, and then they were ready.

The two agents stood stock still, waiting for the other to make a move. They had been fighting together long enough to know that whoever made the first move would have a disadvantage, so they waited. The minutes ticked on until Clint finally feigned a punch to her side, kicking out with his leg instead. The blow grazed her leg and she stumbled before catching herself, sliding past him and landing a blow to his back. Clint grunted and spun around in time to block another blow, grabbing her arm and forcing her her back. To anyone watching it would appear that the two agents were out for blood, but they knew each others limits and knew not to push too far. The minutes flew past as the two continued to block and feign attacks, neither gaining any ground on the other. Finally they stopped, stepping away from each other as they tried to catch their breath.

"Your starting to make me nervous." Clint finally said after a minute, shaking his head in disbelief. Natasha was one hell of a fighter, but his strength usually gave him an advantage in hand to hand combat, but now he was finding it harder and harder to keep up with his partner.

"You are just tired," Natasha shrugged.

"Not that tired." Clint mused as he looked at her, a smile playing on his lips; she might actually be able to kick his ass one of these days.

.

.

.

Clint sighed as he stared at the ceiling, blinking as he tried to keep his eyes open. Sleep hung around him like a thick fog and he knew he should sleep, but he also knew he would be awake within a few hours, the nightmares fresh in his mind. It was the same cycle of dreams every time; his brothers death, his parents deaths, and then Natasha's death. Every time he was the killer and every time he woke up feeling terrorized. There was no way to fix it that he knew of, so he had learned to deal with it, or at least he pretended he had. Someone knocking at his door pulled Clint from his thoughts and he frowned.

"Come in." He considered grabbing a pair of shorts but shrugged, whoever it was would have to deal with his boxer clad state. It was their fault for bugging him this late.

"You sound cheerful." Natasha commented sarcastically as she entered the room, shutting the door behind her. "Good grief it is cold in here!" She scowled at him, wondering how he was sitting there practically naked.

"Better cold than hot." He shrugged. "What's up?" He said around a yawn, leaning against the headboard.

"You need to sleep."

"Are you the curfew enforcer or something?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever, Clint. Move over." Natasha kicked her shoes off and pushed her sweats off as she walked. Clint noticed she was wearing his shirt again, but this time a pair of shorts covered her lower half.

"Do what?"

"Move over." Natasha repeated, shivering as she pushed him over and crawled onto the bed beside him.

"And what exactly do you think you are doing?"

"Sleeping with you? Any objections?" She arched an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face. Clint just rolled his eyes and reached across her to turn the lamp off, ignoring her muffled complaints when his arm pressed against her face. "Jerk."

"It is my room," he grinned as he slid under the covers, rolling over on his side and tucking a pillow under his head. "Your not a kicker, are you?"

"Only if you snore." She smiled slightly when Clint chuckled and then settled in beside him, resting her back against his stomach. Her shivers subsided as his body heat warmed her and she sighed contently as he draped an arm over her waist. Natasha stared into the darkness for a minute before lacing her hand through his, closing her eyes with a yawn.

"Comfortable?" Clint asked in a slightly teasing tone.

"Extremely," she mumbled, sleepiness clouding her thoughts.

"Night." Clint pressed a kiss to the top of her head, but she was already gone. He smiled before closing his own eyes, pulling her a bit closer to him. At least she would be there if he had nightmares tonight and that was good enough for him. For the first time in months he was asleep within seconds, Natasha securely wrapped in his arms.


	14. Chapter 14

**Ok, I had to re-write this. It was killing me and it made the next chapter impossible to write!**

Clint groaned as he opened his eyes, wishing the sun wouldn't hit him right in the face every morning. He blinked several times, then seemed to notice that he was in a compromising position. He was sprawled out on his back and Natasha was half lying on top of him, still asleep. One of her smooth legs were between his and her arm was stretched across his chest, her hand intertwined with his. Her head was rested on his chest and she had a content look on her face. There was no way he could move without waking her up and he really needed to pee. With a sigh he closed his eyes once more, deciding a little bladder pain was worth it; he had slept soundly throughout the night and hadn't had a single nightmare, but that was just a bonus to Natasha sleeping with him.

Natasha finally stirred underneath his arm and blinked several times as if she had forgotten where she was. "Oh. Morning." She mumbled sleepily, her breath tickling his chest.

"Morning," Clint chuckled, using his free hand to lazily rub her back. "Comfortable?" He asked as she remained still.

"Very." Natasha closed her eyes once more, relaxing at his touch. This had become their morning routine over the last few weeks: she would wake up only to remain in bed for another hour before Clint finally managed to coax her up. Quite a few red flags were still flying in her brain about the whole situation, but she decided she could care less at the moment. She was comfortable and she was with Clint. Part of her was still leery about the whole situation, but the other part was quite happy. She wasn't sure how she allowed him to get so close to her, but it had happened. She trusted him, but she was still hesitant to get attached to him. Friends could offer each other comfort, right? That thought made her want to laugh as she thought about her current position and she sighed; how were you supposed to fight your own mind?

"You ok?" Clint asked, catching her sigh. His hand moved to her bare arm and Natasha closed her eyes once more, a smile touching her lips. She had never received this kind of attention before; Ianvitch and his men had been rough and violent whenever they had their way with her. Although it was new and a bit startling, she found herself enjoying it.

"Just thinking." She replied after a moment, her voice soft and sleepy.

"You are always thinking. You need to just relax sometimes."

"I am quite relaxed right now." She assured him with a small smile, shifting as he stopped rubbing her arm. He chuckled as she brushed it against his hand once more, encouraging him to continue his previous actions.

"What are you, a cat?"

"Shut up. That feels good."

"All you have to do is ask," Clint smirked. "Or do you prefer going around brushing against people until they rub on you?"

"No one has ever "rubbed" on me before, and if you are comparing me to a cat it would do you well to remember that cats scratch." She tried to keep a straight face but Clint saw straight through it.

"Ah, you wouldn't scratch me. You'd kick my ass." Clint grinned.

"You learn quick." Natasha reached up to give him a slow, lingering kiss.

"Thanks, I think," he replied as she pulled away. "Unfortunately I need to get up."

"Why?" Natasha whined(much to her surprise) as he stopped rubbing her arm and shifted underneath her."

"Because I need to pee. And I am hungry." He nudged her ribs with his finger, only to have her scowl at him. "Up."

"Fine." Natasha grumbled as she rolled off of Clint, shivering at the sudden lack of shared body heat. "You keep it way too cold in here," she remarked as she pulled the blanket around her shoulders with a yawn.

"You poor thing." Clint said in a teasing tone, patting her head and jumping out of the way as she swatted at him. "Go get dressed so we can eat. And maybe brush your teeth," he added with a grin.

"You are a horrible person." Natasha frowned at him as she stood up, taking the blanket with her, and crossed the room to the door. Clint chuckled as she slammed it, then smiled as he looked at her spot on his bed. He could definitely get used to that.

. . . . . .

"Coulson," Natasha acknowledged the man as she heard his footsteps but didn't look up from her book. Phil sighed, shaking his head; he hated that the Natasha and Clint always knew when he was coming.

"Natasha, how are you?" Phil asked as he leaned against the table, watching the female agent. She had yet to look up from her book, as if he wasn't even there.

"Pretty good. And yourself?"

"Busy as usual. Is Clint around?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm not his keeper, thank god for that."

"It isn't an easy job," Phil chuckled before taking on a more serious air. "Since you two have been inseparable lately I thought you might have an idea to where he might be."

Natasha frowned and slowly closed her book, setting it down on the table and turning to the senior Agent. "Excuse me?" She arched an eyebrow, daring him to elaborate on that.

"It's pointless to play dumb. I'm not stupid. Plus Stark caught you two kissing in the gym." Natasha's eyebrows shot up and she silently made a vow to kill Stark for opening his big mouth. Worry began gnawing at her stomach; was Clint in trouble? Was she in trouble? What did Phil want from them? With a frown she decided to remain silent and see where the conversation was headed. "Don't worry, Fury hasn't heard anything about it and I'm not saying anything. Not my business; you are both getting the job done and it isn't effecting the quality of your work, so I'm not worried about it. I do need to speak to Clint though and you as well. We have a...situation in the east."

"What kind of 'situation'?" Natasha silently sighed in relief, her heart rate returning to normal. "And I imagine he is in the weight room. It is Tuesday."

"That's the thing- we aren't really sure what is going on,but it is messy. I'll explain more when we meet, which will be in the A4 conference room in thirty minutes. I need to go find Clint."

"If he isn't in the gym I would check the mess hall."

"Thanks." Phil gave her a friendly smile before going on his way. Natasha sighed as she stood up and headed towards the conference room, wondering what kind of mess they were about to get into.

.

.

.

"Hey." Clint greeted Natasha with a nod, sitting down beside her and across from Phil Coulson. The senior agent slid them both a file, turning his attention to the projector screen, where several clips of bloody battles were playing. Clint took the opportunity to reach over and brush his lips against Natasha's, only to have her kick him under the table. "Ow!"

"Hey." She kept her eyes trained on the screen as she ignored him and tried to make sense of the mess that she was seeing. She could spot the same two opposing forces in each clip, although one force appeared to be made up of mostly civilian soldiers. "What is this?" She finally voiced her thoughts, turning her attention to Coulson.

"Clips from Budapest. Things have gotten quite messy over there, as you can see."

"Messy indeed. But how does this involve us?"

"I'm getting to that part. As you can see, we have two opposing forces here. The men in the civilian uniforms are actually undercover operatives for a Russian Mob. The men that they are attacking are mixed US and Hungarian Forces that were stationed in Budapest during the election season. They were trying to keep peace during the democracy campaigns since there were threats of a terrorist attack. We had things under control, until there was a bit of a mix up."

"What kind of mix up?" Clint frowned as he thumbed through the file, recognizing several now dead marines from the news.

"Stark was supposed to fly over to meet with a Captain Walshburg and secure an arms deal. We were going to fortify US lines and help secure a stable city once more. Only Stark ending up meeting with an undercover Russian Mob member instead and sold him several nuclear weapons, which are now being used against us."

"Idiot," Clint mumbled under his breath, frowning.

"How are we supposed to help?" Natasha frowned as well, shaking her head; Tony Stark was like an oversized toddler.

"For starters, we need you to get in there and help fortify our lines. The Russians are causing a heavy death toll in the city, as you saw in the clips. I am sure our troops would appreciate any help they could get at this point. Secondly, we need to recover these Nuclear weapons, otherwise any effort to restore peace will vanquished instantly. The Russian's have holed up in the Parliament building and established a base of operations. That would be the best place to start. Assuming you can recover the weapons and are in fighting shape, it would be nice to know who is behind all this." Coulson ran a hand over his head, shaking his head. "Sorry, I know it is a lot to process."

"Nah, it will be a piece of cake." Clint grinned at his friend.

"I figured you would say that. I have already arranged a flight for you two. It leaves in three hours, so you should probably go get ready. If you have any more questions feel free to come find me. Stay safe and come home in one piece, ok? Natasha, keep an eye on him."

"Excuse me?" Clint snorted. "I am the one that has to keep an eye on her."

Natasha rolled her eyes at that and shook her head. "Don't worry. I'll keep him in line."

"I am counting on that. And Barton?"

"What?" Clint glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Try not to bring back any women this time." Coulson said with a sly grin that was aimed at Clint. Natasha laughed and smirked, giving Clint that I-told-you-so look.

Clint rolled his eyes, pushing his chair away from the table. "Trust me, I won't make that mistake again. Ow!" He added as Natasha kicked him in the shin again. "Damn you are violent!"

"You are just now realizing this?" Coulson laughed.

"What is this? Pick on Clint day? Geez."

"You poor baby." Natasha smirked as she reached up to ruffle his hair, earning a groan from him.

"I will see you two when you get back. Stay safe." Coulson gave them one last smile before leaving the room, leaving the two agents alone. Clint spun his chair in a circle before sliding it close to Natasha's with a grin.

"So?"

"So what?" She arched an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

"About?"

"Our assignment."

"It should be simple enough, although it is annoying to have to clean up Starks mess."

"Better get used to that. He is the king of messes." Clint chuckled before leaning over to kiss her. "On the bright side, you get to be stuck with me."

"Oh joy." Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled slightly. "I need to go take care of a few things. I'll see you this afternoon, ok?"

"I look forward to it."

**So hopefully this was better than the original post. I had to change the story a bit to fit everything else, so try not to hate me too much! I will try to get the new chapter posted within the weeks! Cheers!**


	15. Update

**News! I have completely finished writing the Hunter's Prey out! The story is complete and I have several more chapters for y'all! The bad news: It is all hand written, meaning that I have to find the time to type it up. Several new updates will come out this week. Thanks for sticking with me(if anyone has...) and be sure to give some feedback! :)**


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